Through Eyes of Orange and Blue
by NotMarge
Summary: A direct revisting of X-Men: Days of Future Past through the eyes of Hank McCoy. Occasional conjecturing between scenes and OC mentions. Otherwise, straight up movie. Plus loads of internal monologue and observations from our favorite blue furry fella. Need I mention spoilers? Naw, you guys are smart. :D
1. Start of a Beautiful Friendship

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 1: Start of a Beautiful Friendship

* * *

"Can I help you?"

_Whoa, check out that hair. Man, is that what you meant to do?_

"What happened to the school?"

"The school's been shut for years. Are you a parent?"

Hank was already feeling a little annoyed by the dark shades that hid the big guy's eyes.

"I sure hope not! Who are you?"

_Growl._

_Hush, Beast. Not now._

"I'm Hank. Hank McCoy. I look after the house."

The big guy huffed in derision and gestured, his mischievous dark eyes now revealed as he had removed his glasses.

"You're Beast?"

A sarcastically doubtful statement if Hank had ever heard one.

Instant bristles of annoyance . . .

_And why can't I be?_

Mixed with an overwhelmingly chilling bout of anxiety . . .

_How do you know that? I never told anybody but Hope . . ._

Flooded him as the big guy continued talking. He seemed to be very good at that.

"Look at you. Well, I guess you're a late bloomer."

_Oh, great, another smart aleck. Well, I'm done here. _

Hank spoke up in curt tone, painting a politely dismissive smile on his strained face.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He moved quickly to close the heavy door, but not quickly enough. The big hairy guy reached out his hands and stopped the door.

_And he's super strong too. Ugh, fantastic._

"Where's the professor?"

Hank pushed as hard as he could, vaguely aware of a distant growling rising up within him. Something about this guy called a challenge to the beast. A call that Hank resolutely tried to ignore. But it was stirring him up.

"There's no professor here."

The truth. It really was the truth. No professor. Not anymore.

"You're pretty strong for a scrawny kid."

The big guy even managed to sound magnanimously impressed.

_Yeah, and you look like the wild man from Borneo. Now let go of the door._

"Come on. Sure there's not a little beast in there? Come on, beastie . . ."

_Don't . . . mock me._

Hank grunted and groaned out denials that even he didn't think sounded believable. But he had to try.

He failed when the guy gave one final shove and pushed Hank back just enough to gain a foothold into the foyer. He moved past Hank with a sure, determined stride and Hank followed him, his ire growing. Through the inner door and into the actual manor itself.

"Hey, I said the school's closed. You need to leave."

Irritation flooded Hank because he'd actually allowed the jerk into the house. He'd never get him out now. This was going to cause a stir with Charles and then he'd be the one left to put up with him in the aftermath.

And Hank had more important stuff to do than to be detained with this guy and whatever problems he brought with him.

But the guy kept walking.

"Not until I see the professor," he answered dismissively.

"Look, there's no professor here, I told you that."

Hank clamped a hand down on the guy's tense shoulder and finally the man turned and addressed him directly again.

It was not what Hank expected.

"Look, kid, you and I are gonna be good friends."

_Oh really? 'Cause I doubt . . ._

Then the big guy punched quick and hard right in the nose and pain shot through him.

_Oh, son of a . . . _

"You just don't know it yet."

And he felt, he heard, the beast within him roar as he ungracefully toppled to the floor.

_No, no, no, don't lose control, don't change . . ._

But he'd already lost control of his emotions and the beast was on his way. There was no stopping him. Glancing up, Hank saw the guy head right on up the stairs, calling for the 'Professor'. Only vaguely did he wonder how the guy knew where to find Charles.

Hank pulled off his glasses and slammed his fist down on the floor. Unable to stop it anyway, he gave himself over to his anger and let go.

_Get him, Beast._

Hank heard the rippling of his muscles, felt the blue fur burst from his flesh. He launched himself up after the guy. Leaping over the railing and into the upstairs hall. Bounding on all fours, feeling his muscles respond with relish. Rebounding off the wall, grabbing the hanging light fixture and flipping upside-down and sideways, he reached out with his strong beast hands and grabbed the big guy just before he reached Charles' private quarters.

He flung him back away from the door and roared. The surprised guy feinted a motion which the Beast easily countered and then with another roar flung him out of the corridor, leaping after him, claws out.

Then he landed on him on the opposite staircase, roaring and growling as he did so.

Hank flung the guy down off the stairs and hard onto a table. Leaping after him, Hank grasped the chandelier with his claws and flipped again, gripping with his prehensile feet. He menacingly clawed the air inches above the guy's head as a threat to stay down, growling and roaring while the big guy cowered in surprise on the cold marble.

It had been so long since Hank had cut loose and let his power and strength and ferocity run free.

It felt _so_ good.

Especially to use it on this arrogant, self-important jerk.

"Hank?" a mildly irritated voice inquired, descending itself down the staircase. "What is going on here?"

The two combatants paused as the big guy answered in disbelief.

"Professor?"

Hank, still dangling upside down, looked back at the stairs at the man descending from the second floor.

"Please don't call me that."

Charles approached slowly, heavily, looking for all the world like a spaced-out hippie burn-out. Bare feet, loose lounge pants, long paisley dressing robe over an off white ribbed shirt. Unkempt beard, long tangled hair.

"You know this guy?" Hank questioned, still dangling from the sturdy light fixture.

In one hand, Charles held a sniffer nearly drained of its intoxicating amber liquid.

"He looks slightly familiar," Charles admitted not so generously.

The bizarre tableau held for a fraction of a second before the man on the stairs gestured, speaking in an embarrassed and patronizing tone of voice.

"Get off the bloody _chandelier_, Hank."

_Oh really? I'm trying to protect you while you waste away _and_ I've got better things to do and _now_ you're going to be the dignified host all of a sudden?_

A slightly deflated and disgruntled Hank reluctantly complied, releasing his prehensile foothold on the chandelier, flipping, and hitting the floor on his feet.

_I used to be a gifted, brilliant scientist. What am I now? A blue, furry bodyguard to a hung-over serum junkie? And he doesn't even appreciate it. This is shameful._

He stood with as much dignity as possible off to the side, still tensely alert in beast form.

_Well, can I at least hit him again?_

* * *

**Hello again!**

**Yep, yep. I said September and it's June. Hush and enjoy, yeah? *winks**

**Okay, so yes, all quoted dialogue is straight up from the movie. I own nothing. **

**Hank's internal dialogue and observations are just me having fun.**

**Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. From Amusement to Dread to Shame

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 2: From Amusement to Dread to Shame

* * *

"You can _walk_?"

A shadow passed over the big guy's face as he spoke in a surprised tone to Charles.

_Not quite the man you know? Well, me neither. Join the club._

"Well, you're the perceptive one," Charles sniped.

_Leave it to you to try to sound pretentious when you're drunk._

"I thought Erik . . ." the big guy started.

Charles interrupted him, continuing to descend the stairs and seating himself down.

_Oh, no, no. You really should remain standing for the price you and I have both paid for those working legs of yours._

"What is slightly _perplexing_ is that you managed to miss our sign on the way in. This is private property my friend. I am going to have to ask . . . him to ask you to leave."

_Well, thanks for visiting us here at our warm and welcoming Xavier abode. Now get out._

As Charles was so eloquently dismissing him, the big guy eased himself off the expensive marble tabletop and stood.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that because, uh . . . I was sent here for you."

The raggedy Charles presented himself in truly generous form.

"Well, tell whoever that sent you that I'm . . . busy," he suggested with a careless, empty ghost of a grin.

_Liar. I despise you both._

"This is gonna be a little tricky," the big guy said, taking a deep breath as if he were about to reveal the secrets of the universe. "The person who sent me . . . was you."

_No more Twilight Zone for you, big guy._

Charles' expression suggested the big guy was some fascinating new breed of insect that he had been amusedly examining which was now beginning to buzz and irritate him.

"What?"

As insane as the story was beginning to sound, the guy really seemed to _believe_ what he was saying. His face radiated honesty, sincerity, and above all, a sense of urgency.

"About fifty years from now."

_Acid? Was it acid? I bet you took acid._

Charles' countenance registered drunkenly amused astonishment. It was not pretty.

"Fifty years from now? Like, in the future 'fifty years from now'?"

The big guy affirmed, though his face revealed he clearly understood no one in attendance would believe him.

Charles seemed to struggle to absorb the outlandish idea, glancing back and forth between the big guy and Hank.

_Don't look at me. I'm just the big, blue, monkey, bodyguard-butler, remember?_

Then he chuckled, grumbling an insult, obviously finding the humor here where Hank could not.

And the big guy grimly floored them both.

"If you had your powers, you'd know I was telling the truth."

_Growl?_

_Shut up. I heard him._

The statement struck a clear nerve with the man on the stairs.

"How do you know I don't have my p . . ."

Realization began to dawn on Charles' face. An 'it cannot be true and yet I feel it must be though I don't want for it to' expression.

"Who _are_ you?" he questioned, now appearing avidly curious and desperately trying not to be. "Are you CIA? Have you been watching me?"

In any other situation, it would have sounded like the ramblings of a paranoid drug-head. But this, this now was getting serious.

Hank could not have been more attuned to every single syllable emitting from the big hairy guy's mouth.

"I know you, Charles," the guy confessed, taking the opportunity of the rapt attention he was receiving to make his case heard.

"We've been friends for years."

_Wait, where have I been? Here, right? I never saw you._

"I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head . . ."

Hank watched them both. The big guy's sincerity was evident and Charles was slowly starting to look even sicker than usual.

"And it wasn't until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head."

Hank's ire softened somewhat.

_That sounds terrible. To be so alone and afraid with no evidence to prove what's happening to you. At least I could show people my feet as proof. Except I never did. Until her._

"Do you want me to go on?" the big guy challenged, sounding simultaneously determined and regretful to do so.

Charles shook his head slightly, looking horrified.

"I never told anyone that," he admitted.

_Great, now he's spiraling. I'm never getting out of this house now. Thanks, Wolfy._

"Not yet, no," the guy replied, softer and somewhat hesitatingly comforting. "But you will."

Charles appeared to be struggling to regain his air of reservation.

"All right, you've piqued my interest. What do you want?"

The big guy sighed, as if coming to some sort of decision in his mind. Hank watched carefully, the beast crouched and ready to pounce.

"You have to stop Raven."

_What?_

Hank surreptiously looked at Charles. The one topic that was most painful, most tender. And the big guy had just pulled it out and stomped all over it.

And then continued talking as if they didn't need a moment to absorb this new turn in the conversation.

"I need your help. We need your help."

_We? Who's 'we'? Is someone else going to barge in here and punch me in the face too?_

Hank worried Charles might implode on the spot. He seemed to struggle, flail within himself. His face drew down, eyes glittering darkly. He muttered, abruptly rising from his perch, voice barely audible.

"I think I'd like to wake up now."

Charles slowly walked past Hank without sparing him a glance. At the mention of her name, all of Hank's emotions began to drain away as did his beast form, leaving him hollow and numb.

"What does she have to do with this?" Hank asked the big guy.

If he could have felt any emotion, it would have been cold dread.

* * *

Hank and the big guy . . .

_Logan. He said his name is Logan._

. . . had followed the shambling Charles into his study. Well, what had previously been his study. Now it was more like a chill-out tent. As if he knew.

Charles was currently dealing with the big guy's new earth-shattering revelations by attempting to drink them away.

_Very noble, Charles. Very noble indeed. You lush._

"So you're saying that they took Raven's power and . . . what . . . weaponized it?"

Charles still sounded doubtful but there was a hint of belief creeping through his tone.

_Ah, man. I don't want to talk about her. Okay, just focus on the scientific aspect._

"She is unique," Hank admitted even as Logan affirmed the statement.

"Yes, she is, Hank," Charles stated, his double meaning clearly flung in Hank's face.

_Shut up, Charles. Do not presume to read me._

Hank sat in a chair before the abandoned desk, next to the big guy, and watched Charles move around the clutter and hovel of his once immaculate study. Watched him even as he struggled to maintain his hippie, burnout persona in the face of a dark and looming reality the big guy started to reveal.

"In the beginning . . ."

_Like, Biblical, _that_ beginning? Or . . ._

". . . Sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began identifying the genetics in non-mutants . . ."

Continuing to speak slow and clearly as if it cost him effort to remain calm, the big guy trained his eyes trained on Charles. Charles who, seemingly ignored the entire deluge of carefully chosen words being spoken, continued making his way over to the plush sofa where he had reclined despondently so many times

". . . who would eventually have mutant children or grandchildren. Many of the humans tried to help. It was a slaughter . . ."

Their uncertain future seemed to be rapidly becoming dark and bloody. Charles sprawled on the soft furniture and imbibed more nerve numbing liquid, pretending to be absolutely unaffected by these bleak revelations. Hank, however, knew he was listening intently.

". . . leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars. I've never seen anything like this," he concluded. "And it all starts with her."

_Okay, I admit it. This sounds bad. This sounds very bad._

Hank looked over at Charles, past the ill-used chess set, into the face of the man who had avoided so much for so long.

Could Charles handle this? Could he even _try_?

"Let's just say for the sake of . . . for the sake," Charles amended. "That I chose to believe you, that I choose to help you. Raven won't listen to me."

_Well, in all fairness, there's not many who would in your current condition, Charles._

The man on the sofa smiled a sick, sad, self-pitying smile.

"No, her heart and soul belong to someone else now."

Hank drew a deep, calming breath as his stomach dropped down into his feet. He had been doing so well lately. So well to put her away and pick up the shattered pieces of his existence. And now, out of the blue . . .

_Growl._

_Shut up, that's not funny._

_Growl._

_No, it's just a slip of the tongue. _

_Growl._

_Whose side are you _on_, Beast?_

. . . she had come tumbling back. Without even being here, she had slammed into his life once again. Knocking everything askew.

"I know," the big guy said, standing up and advancing toward Charles. "That's why we're going to need Magneto too."

_Uh, no. Bad topic, Future Man._

Charles laughed in derision even as Logan appeared absolutely sincere.

"Erik?" Hank questioned doubtfully. "You do know where he is."

The big guy nodded uncomprehendingly even as Charles rose and began laughing like a madman.

_Hold it together, man. Just . . . hold it together. Please?_

The big guy apparently found no humor in the situation. The thought crossed Hank's mind that he might be gearing up to punch the drunkenly gleeful man.

_I might just let him too if Charles keeps up this ridiculous display._

Then Charles stopped laughing and walked past the big guy, responding with the simmering hate that Hank knew had been there all along.

"He's where he belongs."

The big guy Logan did not give up quite so easily.

"That's it? So you're just going to give up?"

Charles spun loosely, throwing out his carefree façade once more. A false smile upon his scruffy face.

"Oooh, top marks. Like I said, you are perceptive," he quipped bitingly.

Hank's shame at his once compassionate, principled friend nearly made him sick as he watched him go.

"The professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path."

It was bad enough for Hank to witness Charles Xavier's fall from the good man he'd once been. It was much worse to have to watch someone else who clearly at some point had respected him see his conduct now. Hank swallowed back his rising bile.

But it appeared the big guy wasn't done with the inebriated man shambling up the stairs just yet.

"Especially someone he loved."

His carefully chosen words struck a twanging chord. Charles staggered back, gesturing with his alcohol-laden drink.

_If he spills it, that'll just add to my list. And I had much better plans today. Much better. Come on, man. There were roses and everything._

"You know, I think I do remember you now."

Charles advanced angrily, drunkenly upon the big guy. Hank tensed, wondering what was about to occur.

"Yeah," Charles said, having clearly found a weapon to brandish bitterly at his adversary. "We came to you a long time ago, seeking your help. And I'm going to say to you what you said to us then."

And then he did.

Hank rose as Charles blatantly suggested the big guy go copulate with himself and the big guy responded with a curse, grabbing Charles clothes menacingly.

He very nearly growled his chilling words. A lesser man would have sounded like he was beseeching. This guy would not do so.

"I've come a long way and watched a lot of people die. Good people, friends. If you want to wallow in self-pity and do nothing, then you're going to watch the same thing. You understand?"

Hank couldn't tell if the big guy was about to burst into tears or knock Charles to the ground.

What he could see was that part of Charles was more awake, more alive than he had been in some time. He actually appeared to be enjoying the confrontation. Some sick, twisted part was enjoying cruelly manipulating the big guy and causing him pain.

Because that way he didn't have to focus on his own quite so much.

And Hank, Hank was a master of avoidance, not confrontation. Charles rarely got the fights and arguments he sought from Hank.

But this guy gave it to him in spades.

Hank hated the entire thing.

But if it worked, it would be worth it.

_Did he finally get through to you, Charles?_

The big guy, Logan, loosen his grip, waiting for the man he had come to see to finally respond.

And he did.

With a light sneer and dropping his words like stones upon the floor, he spoke. Aiming his cold, heartless gaze directly at the man who had come begging for help.

"We all have to die sometime."

_I guess not._

And then he turned and walked away. Swigging his vile substance as he went.

Hank spoke regretfully to the big guy's back.

"I told you, there's no professor here."

_Welcome to my world. Can you fix him? 'Cause I'm tired of trying._

* * *

**Okay, this is just awesomely cool to have readers coming back for this installment. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. **

**And now that I've been all creepy and such . . . **

**Pretty long chapter here. But loads of heavy dialogue to get through so that's how it goes.**

**Look for daily updates on this story. It is summer after all. :D**

**Thanks to the precious reviewers: YouWILLbealright, Shanynde, brigid1318, lol, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and Voodoo-Mutant-Child. **

**Thanks to iamgoku, Remember theBadWolf, Paradox Predator, ABewilderedBear, Magic Detective, The Owl Mage, Mandela, ranlou, Ssg1, lrjuni92, Guard of the Heradi, and cavco for bringing your support to this retelling.**


	3. Sorry Tales and Tentative Plans

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 3: Sorry Tales and Tentative Plans

* * *

The big guy turned and looked to Hank. Angry and dumbfounded, inquiring as to what had happened to him. Him, the great man that had once been Charles Xavier.

_Oh man. I've held this inside for so long. And now I'm going to confess to you? The guy who punched me in the face? _

Hank moved around Charles' cluttered mess of a study, closing caps on liquor bottles. Clutching them in his hands like they were all he had left to cling to as he relayed his story.

_Growl._

_Yes, I know I'm acting like a maid in front of the big guy._

_Growl._

_Well, somebody has to clean up around here._

_Growl._

_Yes, I know I'm excusing his behavior. _

_Growl._

_He's my friend, Beast._

_Growl._

_Yes, I know. Now can it so I can talk._

"He lost everything," he wearily explained to the big guy. "Erik. Raven. His legs."

He sighed, glancing around at the shambles of a once proud existence.

"We built the school, the labs, this whole place."

He felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame for Charles, this man who had fallen so very far from where he had once been.

"Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and students got drafted."

A sense of shame for himself as well, being caught up in this mess for ten long years. For being caught by this hairy brute of a man.

"And it . . . broke him. He retreated into himself."

Hank felt his story spilling out though he tried to maintain his outer calm. He needed someone to know it. Maybe not _all_ of it, but to know _of_ it. He was reaching out. Not only for Charles but for himself.

He had never really told her, his orange toenailed friend. Her with an emotion for a name. She radiated such light and beauty that he hadn't wanted to diminish that. This big guy, though, this Logan. He was already all dark undercurrents and strife.

So it was okay.

"I wanted to help, do something. So I designed the serum to treat his spine. You know, derived from the same serum that helps me . . . control my mutation."

He paused, attempting to collect himself then continued.

"I take just enough to keep myself balanced but he . . ." Hank looked down, his guilt and grief threatening to eat him alive. ". . . he takes too much. I've tried easing him back but he just couldn't bear the pain. The voices . . ."

Shameful for another to see how Charles was living, how Hank had _allowed_ Charles to live. Enabled him to do it.

"The treatment gives him his legs but it's not enough. He's just . . . lost too much."

The rushing flow of words dried up and Hank looked blankly at the man who stood before him, privately desperate for him to understand, to _care_.

_I swear to everything in science if he laughs or makes some sarcastic remark, I will rip his guts right out of his body._

_Growl. _

_Yes, I do mean it, Beast._

The big guy didn't. He gazed at him with brooding, sorrowful, compassionate eyes.

And from then on, Hank considered the big guy to be his friend.

Logan.

* * *

They existed together in silence for a while. Logan seeming to ruminate everything he had learned since arriving here. Hank considering the vast implications of the future world Logan had described.

_Lots of negative waves in here, Hope. Not beautiful and righteous at all. I wish you were here. But then again, I don't._

"I'll help you get her."

Hank turned toward the voice to see Charles speaking to Logan.

"Not for any of your future shyte, but for her."

_Her. Yes, her._

Hank could almost see the framed picture of her that sat reverently in Charles' quarters. Raven, in her human form. The form he'd first seen her in. The form in which she'd first smiled at him. The form she'd almost kissed him in. The form she'd sat in his lap and peered into the microscope in. The form he'd first fallen for.

The form she hated.

Hank didn't know how Charles could bear her looking out at him and the dreary world he inhabited. How did it not fill him with shame and embarrassment?

Hank himself had no such framed portrait. Nor did he want one.

Logically, he knew the photograph could not actually see anything.

But he always averted his eyes away from it whenever it came into view.

Because emotionally and mentally, every time he felt its gaze upon him, it hurt and shamed him so very much.

Logan seemed to take Charles' gruff manner in stride.

"Fair enough."

Hank let his machinations of the pseudo-omnipotent photograph slide away and focused on the present. On Charles, who had returned. For now. And Hank dared to let a smile drift across his face.

_Hello, Charles._

Charles wasn't done though. These days, he never was.

"I'll tell you this," he intoned darkly. "You don't know Erik. That man is a monster, a murderer."

_Well, good to see we found another can of worms for you then._

"Think you can get Raven to change, to come home?"

Hank didn't know where his feelings, his thoughts lay there. Dread, desire, hope?

_Hope . . ._

"That's splendid," Charles sarcastically remarked. "But what makes you think you can change him?"

And then Logan dropped another bomb of revelation.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together."

_Well now, that is truly amazing. And highly doubtful, my friend._

* * *

They needed a plan.

Now it was Hank's turn to divulge his information. When everything had fallen away and Charles had retreated, Hank had remained vigilant in his surveillance, his research to into mutant activities.

And so it was him who knew the most about Erik Lehnsher's prison. And had passed it on to Charles. And now to Logan.

"The room they're holding him in was built during the second World War when there was a shortage of steel. So the foundation is pure concrete and sand, no metal."

Charles picked up the flow of the conversation seamlessly as the three men studied the blueprints of the Pentagon that Hank had secretly obtained.

"He's being held a hundred floors beneath the most heavily guarded building on the planet."

Logan's question surprised both Hank and Charles.

"Why is he in there?"

Charles looked expectantly at Hank before chuckling his reply.

"What? He forgot to mention?"

Hank picked up the answer before Charles lost himself again to his bizarre sense of macabre-ish humor.

"Uh, JFK."

Logan seemed stunned.

"What? He killed . . ."

Charles continued to chuckle but there was no humor in it.

"What else explains a bullet miraculously curving through the air? Erik always had a way with guns."

_Yes, yes, your spine. I know and I'm still sorry. But we need to focus here, Charles. Focus. Please._

Hank withdrew, studying the blueprints. Then looked up as Charles challenged Logan once more.

"You sure you want to do this?"

Logan tossed up his hands toward Charles in surrender.

"Hey, this is your plan, not mine."

_We just have some tiny, simple problems. And they're not simple. Or tiny._

"We don't have any resources to get us in . . ." Hank began.

". . . or out. It's just me and Hank," Charles supplied.

_Thanks for the vote of confidence, Serum-head. Even if you are right._

Logan considered their information momentarily, then seemed to reach a conclusion.

"I know a guy. He'd be a young man now. Grew up outside of DC. He can get into anywhere."

When Logan admitted he didn't know how to find him, Hank turned to Charles. He knew what he'd say. But he had to ask.

"Is Cerebro out of the question?"

Charles looked at Hank resentfully and ducked his head without responding.

_You know, there really should be some sort of computer information network, a world-wide thing. To find anybody, anything, anytime. Yeah, that'd be great._

For now though, Hank shrugged.

"We have a phone book."

* * *

**Anybody else want to give Hank a cuddle during his confession to Logan there? Come on, everybody, line up. Big ole' group hug for Hank.**

**Now don't you feel better? Thought so. *grins**

**Now that we've done that . . .**

**Yes, to some of you who are thinking this story tells everything from Hank's POV. I think he may be the one who sees the most the clearest. Logan is focused on saving the future. Noble. Charles most of time is wading through a mire of serum fog or withdrawal. Not so noble. Then there's my guy, Hank. Ahem, excuse me, then there's Hank. He's just maintaining this whole time. And NH plays it so close to the vest most of the time that I just can't resist digging in there a little, you know?**

**If you're lost on the OC Hope and the 'negative waves' references, they're in my pre-DoFP story 'In Between'. And they're all crammed up here in my head along with everything else. **

**Ah, so you've figured out I've got the dialogue down pat, huh? *winks* Well, make of that what you will. I'm just enjoying myself here. ;D**

**Thanks to Shanynde, angeleye02, theFGnat, YouWILLbealright, lol, Paradox Predator, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and brigid1318 for your reviews.**

**Thanks to Princess Of Darkness12, Jasper6509, The Clara Oswin Oswald, and cherryblossomfallingintherain for returning to add your support to this story.**

**See you in the next chapter. We're going to have some fun with our boy Quicksilver. Shake off some of this angst, yeah? :)**


	4. The Silver-Haired Nitroglycerin Tablet

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 4: The Silver-Haired Nitroglycerin Tablet

* * *

Hank sat in the rental car quietly, watching the scenery go by. He'd never been in this neighborhood before. It was different yet the same as all the others he'd seen. He thought he liked it.

He'd flown them in Charles' private plane from New York to Washington, D.C. in just under an hour. And listened to the silence sit in the plane with them.

But now . . .

Charles and Wolverine bickered continuously, sounding almost like a little old married couple. In a way, it was good to hear. The life between them, the interaction. Almost like being off on a family vacation.

_If it was a really bizarre family._

The house they stopped at looked just the same as any other. Hank read the name on the mailbox as they approached the front door.

_'Maximoff'._

_Max - I'm - Off?_

As Logan knocked on the door, Hank glanced down at the welcome mat which appeared to have . . .

_Are those . . . scorch marks?_

The anxious woman who answered the door seemed suspiciously immediately. Hank tried to smile in what he thought was a friendly manner, unsure of how this was going to go.

"What's he done now?"

_Yep, right house._

"Or I can just write a check for whatever he took," she offered hopefully.

_I actually prefer cash._

"We just need to talk to him," Logan answered amicably.

She nodded in resignation then called into the house.

"Peter! The cops are here. Again."

They were finally escorted through the living room of the house. A little girl in a pink princess outfit complete with tiara watched their advance with big, curious eyes.

"I'm a princess," Hank heard her say to Logan. "What are you?"

"I'm the Wolverine," he responded menacingly, barely slowing down.

Hank followed him, slightly abashed at Logan's gruff interaction with the child. She switched her gaze silently to him as he walked past.

_Hello. I morph into a big, blue teddy bear with orange eyes and claws. Nice to meet you._

Then Ms. Maximoff broke his train of thought, requesting to her daughter to head upstairs to play with her big sister.

"Twins," she said, somewhat absently to Charles.

_Wow, two of them. I wonder if she's got powers too._

* * *

Hank's first consideration as he descended the steps behind Logan into the basement was that it was a hive of activity, music, and noise. His second was that he could be quite comfortable here just relaxing and observing all the activity of the silver haired nitroglycerin tablet of a teenager they found themselves in the presence of.

The boy was playing Ping-Pong against himself. And winning. Or losing. Depending on your perspective. He seemed to warp back and forth from one end of the table to the other. Hank tried to keep up with his movements, the scientist in him jumping up and down with excitement and glee at this new mutant discovery.

"What you guys want?" The kid spoke so fast all his words ran together. "I didn't do anything!"

Then he disappeared, the paddle and ball dropping to the floor, and reappeared stretched out comfortably on the shabby couch behind them.

"I've been here all day."

Logan spoke, reassuring the kid to relax, telling him they weren't police.

"No, you're not cops," the kid verified cooly, as if this were quite obvious. "Of course you aren't cops. If you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car."

Thirty seconds into the basement and Hank's mind was already happily humming with scientific observations and inquires. Charles just seemed frazzled and annoyed.

"How did you know we were in a rental car?"

_You go for it, Charles. I'm not going up against this kid. No way._

"I checked your registration when you were . . ."

And he was off again.

Hank let him go, letting the flow of words wash over him like a continuous tidal wave. He'd already decided he was going to listen for key words and phrases to latch onto instead of trying to run and keep up with every nuance and syllable. It would be much less exhausting and frustrating that way. And much easier to observe him and his powers.

Suddenly, Peter vanished and reappeared behind Charles, holding his wallet in hand, a card already out of it.

"No, you're not cops," he verified, continuing to spout words at an exhausting speed.

Hank gazed at him in genuine delight as Charles leaned over, checking his pockets.

"Hey, what's with this card to 'Yomsher's Place'?"

And quick as a wink, Peter was gone again, the wallet and wrinkled card falling from empty air to the Ping-Pong table.

Charles reached for his belongings, his movements and tone irritable. Hank briefly wondered if the boy's hyperactivity was playing havoc with Charles' oversensitive sensory circuits. Having not been out of the manor much lately and quite possibly beginning to experience the world without his alcohol shield, Charles was undoubtedly feeling a little raw behind the large, amber sunglasses he was wearing.

"Well, he's fascinating!" Hank exclaimed, unable to entirely suppress his scientific glee.

"He's a pain in the ass," Charles remarked boorishly.

_Yeah, well, so are you._

"He's what? A teleporter?" Hank inquired of Logan.

"No, he's just fast," Logan replied, seemingly resigned to the situation at hand. "When I knew him he wasn't so . . . young."

Peter reappeared again, reclining once more in a different chair as if he had been there the whole time.

"Young?" he shot back, devouring the last of an ice pop Hank had never seen before. "You're just old."

Hank couldn't resist admiring his energy, his control, his aplomb. The kid was obviously enjoying himself.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers," Logan stated, not quite phrasing it as a question.

"Powers? _Powers_? What powers?" the smug teenager said, dismissively. "You see something strange here? Nothing anybody would believe if you told them."

Then in a burst of ruffling air, he moved unseen past them again to a Pong arcade game he very clearly did not own.

Hank was beginning to wonder if he was going to give himself whiplash trying to keep up with this kid.

_I feel sorry for the mom._

"So who are you and what do you want?" the kid asked nonchalantly.

_I bet the old Raven would want to call him 'Mercury'. She was good at naming people._

"We need your help, Peter."

_Or maybe 'Quicksilver'. Yeah, that's good. 'Quicksilver'._

"With what?"

The kid seemed uninterested. Or maybe he was just playing it cool.

"To break into a highly secured facility," Logan admitted. "And get someone out."

"Prison break?" Peter said, sounding mildly interested. "That's illegal, you know."

Logan countered brilliantly.

"Only if you get caught."

The kid could not be shaken.

"So what's in it for me?"

Oh, yeah, this kid broke into and out of places all the time, judging by all the junk he had sitting around. He even had boxes and boxes of junk food stacked in a corner as well. Hank noticed a particularly appealing sugary snack.

Boxes and boxes of them.

_Mmm, Twinkies. I love Twinkies . . ._

"You," Charles said, sounding tired and irritated and playing their final card, "you, _kleptomaniac_, get to break into the Pentagon."

_Aw, come on now Charles, be _nice_ to the kleptomaniac. I mean 'Peter'._

Now they had the kid's attention. He even turned at normal, human speed and faced them.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked suspiciously.

_Well, at least he's intelligent enough to be cautious._

" 'Cause we're just like you," Logan answered.

_Well, sort of. Not really. Frankly, you kind of make me dizzy. And exhilarated. It's very complicated._

The kid didn't move, didn't speak. Didn't show any sign of understanding or belief. Waiting.

Without looking away, Charles spoke to Logan.

"Show him."

And Logan did. Three, long bone claws slowly revealed themselves, slicing through flesh between the knuckles of one hand.

_I wonder if that hurts. It looks like it hurts._

The kid took it pretty well. His silver eyebrows migrated upwards a little and he seemed to take a slow, careful breath.

Then he regained his poise with a casual, "It's cool but it's disgusting."

And Hank knew then that they had him.

* * *

Hank still wasn't really clear how Peter's mother had been so easily convinced to allow her son to go with three complete strangers off on a secret endeavor.

It wasn't Charles, he knew. Charles was independently ambulatory which meant his mind control powers were still out of reach. All he could do was use his ordinary powers of persuasion.

Logan didn't threaten her though he could have tried. Living as the mother of mutant Maximoff twins, Peter and Wanda and apparently a precocious little girl as well (Hank was stunned that she wasn't more scared of Logan and his threatening physical appearance) might have toughened her up just enough to handle the Wolverine verbally.

Hank didn't say a word. He didn't know what he could have said.

_Just a quick jaunt to break a mutant murderer out of the Pentagon, Mrs. M. Home by curfew, okay? By the way, think you can spare a box of Twinkies?_

It might have been Peter. He said something so quietly and quickly to his mother that they had not been able to understand a word. But apparently she did.

And as a clincher, Peter Maximoff had slowed down to human speed and kissed his mom on the cheek and briefly hugged her.

For some reason he couldn't verbalize, that had made Hank want to hug her too.

He didn't.

Then Peter disappeared. They found him sitting in the car behind the passenger seat, decked out in all black and silver clothing, goggles, and headphones.

"Ready whenever you are, guys," he stated casually with raised eyebrows and an impish grin.

_This is going to be fun._

* * *

**Okay, before you think I've gone off my rocker with the Twinkie thing: **

**1) In the comics, Beast/Hank loved Twinkies. **

**2) They did a nod to that in FC during the Raven/Hank 'take the blood' scene. **

**3) There were Twinkies in Peter Maximoff's basement. **

**4) Youtube 'Hoult Amazed by Twinkies'. **

**5) Finally . . . dudes, they're _Twinkies_!**

**Yep, the third section of this chapter is conjecture and not in the movie. Hopefully it still melds with the movie cannon enough for you.**

**Maximoff? In the original comics, Erik's first name was actually 'Max'. So, 'Max - I'm - off'? Yeah, I'm already writing a little Peter's mom one-shot just on that one simple thought. Heh, heh. Good grief, I'm a nerd. :)**

**According to the director, Bryan Singer (whom I really hope is not the creep they say he is, ugh), the big sister bit was cut from the movie but she does exist. Really? Would another twelve seconds have really sent us all over the edge, man? *Rolls eyes**

**Oh and shout out to fanfic author, Clownfood. If you enjoy Quicksilver fic, read one-shot "Ten Rules of the Maximoff Household'. Trust me, it's spot on and hilarious!**

**Many heartfelt thanks to Shanynde, angeleye02, lupoea2, brigid1318, theFGnat, lol, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and Remember the BadWolf for your enthusiastic reviews.**

**Thanks so much to de cineribus renascitur, Live4dancing, and Brianca for adding your support to this retelling as well. **


	5. On Different Paths

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 5: On Different Paths

* * *

Peter Maximoff was different from every other mutant Hank had ever interacted with. For one simple reason.

Fun.

Peter had _fun_ with his mutant abilities. Everyone else took their individual mutations very seriously. It was a grave responsibility, a terrible burden.

As mutant abilities should be.

Such powers that few had could be used to control others, hold them down.

And that could be a very bad thing.

Even when Charles and his group of mutants had arrived at the government facility, they had been initially solemn and reserved about their powers. After temporarily befriending each other and sort of partying (until they got caught), most of them never had any fun with their mutations until they discovered they safely could.

_Except maybe Sean. Apparently there was something with fish?_

But then there was Peter. He didn't need anybody to tell him it was okay. He was just having fun all on his own.

True, he stole. Lots of things, if the cluttered basement were any indication. And that was wrong of course. There was no getting around that fact.

But actually causing _harm_ to others, well, Hank didn't see that.

He just saw a teenage kid completely at ease with his abilities who relaxed and had fun with them.

Hank didn't know what that was like.

He almost wished he had.

What could that have been like?

His congenial affect faded, flattened out as he considered an alternate reality for himself.

Henry Philip "Hank" McCoy. Just a typical American guy. With cool prehensile feet and incredible speed and agility.

Finding the courage to overcome his shyness enough to show people the nice, humorous guy he was on the inside. Instead of always being ashamed of his uniqueness and hiding away from everyone.

Feeling relaxed and at ease instead of always high strung and fearful of discovery, of ridicule.

Being accepted by his friends and peers, perhaps even admired.

Sure, maybe taking some tease, but taking it all in stride. Knowing they were just a little jealous. And knowing he could take care of himself anyway.

Highly intelligent scholar and perhaps a superstar athlete as well. On the field or on the court, untouchable. Nobody could beat him. Of course, he might not pack on full speed. He would want them to feel as though they were doing well.

But in the end, complete victory to crowds of cheering fans.

Of course, as impossible as that was, as much of an unrealistic dream as that was, the following consequences might have been quite serious.

He might not have been there to create the Blackbird or Cerebro. Or the suits. Or the life-altering serums.

He might not have been recruited as part of Charles' team. He might not have met Raven. He might not have been there to fight in the battle against the mutant Sebastian Shaw and his dangerous, deadly disciples.

He might not have been there to support Charles Xavier through all his long dark years.

He might not have met Hope.

He might not be here now, riding in a rented car with other mutants to break Erik Lehnsherr out of his deep Pentagon prison.

How much would these changes in the timeline of reality have affected the state of the present world? Would life be worse or better for others? For him?

If Hank been any different then, he would not be who he was now.

Which gave him pause for a whole new slew of considerations.

"We're almost there," Charles broke through his contemplative machinations. "Let's go over the plan again, gentleman."

Apparently, Peter thought he'd been quiet long enough. He opened his mouth and coolly outlined the entire plan quicker than any of them could possibly follow.

Which got Hank grinning again despite himself.

And then Charles, refusing to break his grim disposition, ignored the silver-haired teenager and outlined the plan once more.

A little more slowly.

* * *

Hank remained inconspicuously near the back of the tour group. They made their way slowly through the parts of the Pentagon deemed low security enough for tourists. Hank checked his watch, timing his covert attack to the minute.

_Good thing I don't care about looking like an idiot. Why did I let them talk me into both the blue Gilligan hat _and_ the fanny pack? Oh right, tourist distraction. No one who looks like this could possibly be a technological mastermind. Well, except me._

As the tour guide droned on about the history (carefully annotated, he was sure) of the important government facility, Hank casually unzipped the small, black fanny pack. He took out a device that vaguely resembled the remote for a toy car. It was already set to pick up the frequency of the Pentagon's surveillance cameras and scramble all the circuits.

Hank adjusted a few dials carefully. And turned it on.

_Ladies and gentleman, please allow me to introduce you to . . . Fred Sanford._

Somewhere within the secret facility, some very confused security personnel were now viewing the antics of the cantankerous Fred Sanford and his long-suffering son, Lamont.

_There. That should keep them busy for a while._

In the car, the kid had seemed calm, cool, and collected. He also seemed to have an underlying sense of excitement and fun about the whole thing. Which considering the risk he was taking, meant he had a lot of courage and fortitude to face carrying out a mission like that.

Hank admired him even more. And regretted a little that he couldn't be in the midst of the action.

_Yawn. Wonder how it's going down there._

But he was the tech guy, the misdirection.

_Oh well._

When the distant sirens went off, he adjusted another dial to turn on the ceiling water sprinklers, specifically in the scullery.

Hank retracted the silver antenna and casually replaced the device back in the ridiculous fanny pack slung around his hips. Zipping it closely, he devoted his full attention to the extremely uninteresting spiel of the tourist guide for the next several minutes.

He later found out that he had missed quite a lot of action while posing as the floppy-hated, fanny-packed decoy of the prison break plan.

Charles had instantly slugged Erik in the face upon first sight.

_Would've paid to see that._

And Peter apparently had some fun causing mass confusion and mayhem with the security guards.

_Super speed Three Stooges maneuvers, huh? And I see you've procured a new hat as well._

And Hank? Well, Hank had learned all about the carefully annotated history and workings of the Pentagon.

_Yawn._

* * *

They bid Peter, the silver-haired nitroglycerin tablet of a teenager farewell at the private landing strip just outside of D.C.

Erik had already boarded the plane to change out of his grey prison attire and into the khaki pants and blue chambray shirt Hank had been pressed into procuring for him. Logan had gone with him, Hank figured, to keep a casual eye on him.

_Thanks, Logan. Don't let him touch my plane._

Erik, a quiet, reserved person before, had been positively taciturn since they broke him out of the Pentagon an hour before.

_Ten years of incarceration would do that to a guy, I suppose. Not that I care. _

"Peter," Charles said, shaking the boy's hand. "Thank you very, very much. You take care."

At some point during the Pentagon break, Peter had garnered the respect of not only the reserved, gruff Logan, but also the self-absorbed, unbalanced Charles Xavier as well.

And of course Hank already liked the kid.

He stood with them in the afternoon sunshine. It felt warm and Charles was actually smiling and behaving cordially for once.

_Maybe there is some hope after all. _

_Hope . . ._

But Peter, of course, wasn't done just yet.

"Hey, I saw your flight plan in the cockpit. Why're you going to Paris?"

_Yes, why indeed. We could tell you but then we'd have to kill you. _

Hank couldn't contain the slip of an amused smile and a quirked eyebrow that escaped him.

_Actually, he'd be great to take with us. We wouldn't have to do anything. He could just . . . pphft . . . everything._

But they'd already put the boy in the line of fire (literally from what he'd heard) enough already and now must send him home to his family.

Charles appeared to suddenly be stricken with an apparent bout of selective deafness as he smiled and turned away without responding. Hank shook Peter's hand as well and started to follow Charles. Charles ascended a few steps up the stairs, then stopped. Turning, he tossed the keys to Peter, requesting he return the car for them.

And to take it slow.

The boy grinned with happiness and delight, making Hank smile again. He imagined the kid didn't often get the respect and trust he probably wanted from people. Being a silver-haired teenager and all. And most definitely not the responsibility of an actual car either.

Despite his speedy, hyperactive tendancies, Hank had very little doubt that the kid would comport himself with the utmost discretion and propriety while returning the vehicle.

_Well, he might play the radio a little too loud. I would._

He nodded goodbye and followed Charles into the cabin of the plane.

_I'm going to miss you, Speedster._

* * *

**I love being in Hank's head. And the whole alternate reality thing is actually a storyline from somewhere. **

**O****kay, some of you may be thinking that Hank's got a thing for Peter now (yep, those fics are out there - ick). Well, I'm telling you right now he doesn't. It's just refreshing for him to see someone _enjoying_ their powers. And I think we all totally got that from the movie. That's what makes this Quicksilver so much fun, yeah?**

**Thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul for correctly my misspelling. :)**

**And I just miserably hated having to skip the whole Quicksilver scene in the Pentagon (boo-hoo!) but since Hank wasn't there and Peter would play it too cool to retell, it didn't fit. But seriously, best part of the entire movie right there! Now my son runs around the house pretending to be mash-up of Quicksilver and Goku. Which doesn't really work, but in his mind, he's awesome. haha. :)**

**Oh my sweet Christmas, I have now seen DoFP _four_ times! Once with the fam, once when my son & his buddy begged me to take them, once on my own, and yesterday with a friend who wanted to go. I'm actually starting to go bat-crap crazy! Plus, I have a friend visiting from Chile next week and she may want to go! It's like Titanic all over again! (Seven times!) In my defense, it was college, my friends paid the last four times & I didn't want to study. That stupid ship sank every dang time too! *winks**

**So now that I've made my confession . . .**

**Thanks to theFGnat, brigid1318, lol, Mog161, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, lupoea2, Pirate King Ray (best freaking penname _ever, _dude & good point as well) for taking the time to review. **

**Thanks to Deads Never Sleep and Rosy Nic for adding your support to this story as well. **

**Okay, who's ready to almost crash a plane? See you tomorrow!**


	6. The Hazards of Flying

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 6: The Hazards of Flying

* * *

Hank sat in the cockpit of the private plane, his hands firmly on the control wheel. Though his countenance was stern, he felt a rush of enjoyment from flying. From controlling such a huge, bulky contraption, lifting it so high in the air and soaring gracefully, smoothly above the billowy clouds. It was a very powerful, very relaxing sensation.

He fleetingly wondered if he would ever get the opportunity to bring Hope flying with him. She would love it, he was sure. He would even teach her to pilot the plane so she could feel this power, this freedom.

The three other passengers resided in the passenger cabin behind him. Its dark blue walls and contrasting, cream-colored seating reminded him of a different her. A her with scaly, dark blue skin and yellow eyes. And he was glad to be facing away from it, looking out at the vast expanse of cloud-filled sky.

The thick, heavy headphones he wore over his ears to communicate with ground control blocked out most noise and he was glad of that as well. He needed some quiet seclusion to himself to sort out and compartmentalize everything from the last twenty-four hours.

And being so well-versed and at ease controlling the bird afforded him the luxury of being able to breathe and do just that.

For a while.

Gradually, his alert beast senses picked up the rising tension from behind him in the comfortably furnished cabin.

_If I had to guess, I'd say they were arguing about her again. Don't even need that dark blue cabin for that either. Well, you go ahead and do that, gentleman. I'm opting out for once. _

He knew Charles was sitting with his back to him, facing Erik and further away, Logan. As the tension in the cabin mounted further, Hank glanced back in time to see them rising. Charles clutching at Erik and screaming in his face. He was so loud Hank could actually hear his accusing words through the insulating headphones.

"You abandoned me! You took her away and you _abandoned_ me!"

_Um, Charles? Please resume your seat and refrain from assaulting the man who controls metal while we are airborne in a plane mostly comprised of METAL!_

Without warning, the cabin lights flickered ominously and the fuselage of the plane began to crinkle like aluminum foil. The aircraft dipped in an alarming, bone-rattling descent. The dials in front of Hank spun wildly and even using his mutant beast strength, he could not right the plane.

Bracing one hand against the control panel, he looked back again over his shoulder at the scene unfolding behind him.

"Erik!" he called out in controlled alarm, his heart beginning to thunder beneath his blue and white striped shirt.

_A nice, peaceful flight, guys. Was that really too much to ask?!_

Erik stood, seemingly unfazed by the impending disaster, intent on making his point even if he had to kill them all to do it. He spoke quiet words Hank could not make out through the headphones and his face was deadly serious. For some reason, the fact that he was speaking quietly and calmly filled Hank with more dread than if he were shouting like Charles.

Behind him, Logan gripped his armrests tightly, his rugged face tight with stress. As the plane tilted further, Logan grabbed at the items threatening to slip off his table and called out to the men in front of him. Charles lost his balance and fell onto the seating while Erik remained upright and unflinching.

Looming over him.

_Man, this is why I hate traveling with angry mutants. _

"Erik!"

Loose items slid and crashed around the cabin and cockpit of the plane. They were tilted dangerously to the side and Hank didn't need to be clairvoyant to see disaster looming on the horizon. Charles was holding on to an overhead grip and Logan seemed alarmed as well.

And now Erik _was_ shouting.

"We were supposed to protect them! _Together!"_

Hank felt growing compassion for the man of metal. Charles had at least had Hank to stay with him. While Erik in the end had truly been completely abandoned. Left to languish alone without any friend at all, without even his metal to comfort him. Hank remembered wondering if Erik had really shot the president and what his motivation could possibly have been. He had always had his doubts as to the validity of the accusation but Charles' absolute belief in it (driven, Hank was sure, by his own personal experience and lingering emotional pain) steamrolled over any tentative discussion Hank ever tried to present.

_Abandonment issues all around then, gentlemen? _

That being said, he most definitely did not favor Erik's extreme reactions to those to chose to disagree with him. Coins. Strangleholds.

Crashing the plane they were in now. Hank didn't really believe Erik _meant_ to kill them all including himself, but they were rapidly running out of airspace to avoid such an instance.

_Can we, perhaps, resume our trajectory and continue this argument on the ground?!_

"Erik!"

_Come on, man. I don't have regenerative powers like Wolfy over there. I've got better things to do than die today!_

The man of metal completely ignored him, glowering at Charles and reigning in control over the rapidly careening metal cage of death now freely falling out of the sky.

_Uh, Logan, I'm a little busy trying to pilot this crashing plane. Little help here? You like to hit people. Knock him out! Come on, you're right behind him!_

Hank could now see the Atlantic rushing up to meet them. For whatever reason, Logan remained still and Erik remained upright.

_But you didn't hesitate to clock _me_? Really?!_

As Hank began calculating the probability of beasting out, effectively rendering Erik unconscious, and regaining control of the aircraft before they plummeted into the unforgiving dark waters of the cold ocean, Erik finally relented.

The frame of the plane resumed its former stability and evened out its trajectory. Hank gripped the navigational wheel in relief and slowly they regained their intended flight pattern. The men in the cabin resumed their full and upright positions.

_Oh wow, I miss you and your positive waves, Hope. Good thing I packed extra shorts._

Hank McCoy drew a deep, stabilizing breath and let it out slowly. The beast inside squinted up its eyes warily and watched Erik Lehnsherr even more closely than before.

_Growl. _

_I know. He's going to be the death of us all._

He was considering this eventuality when Charles made his way into the cockpit of the plane, seeming to need a moment to calm himself. He slouched in the co-pilot's seat next to Hank and stared out at the quiet, peaceful vista stretched out before them. His trembling hand resting over his mouth. Neither of them spoke.

_So . . . where to, Charles? Vegas? Disney? No? Well, at least I tried._

They flew on toward Paris, France. Bolivar Trask. And the elusive blue mutant Mystique.

* * *

They passed the remainder of the eight hour flight without much excitement. Which was absolutely fine by Hank.

He kept to himself and his own thoughts.

He was a little tired but it was a different kind of tired. Not the tired of trudging through each day, clutching at, searching for, any reason at all to keep going. This was a tired brought on by actually contributing to something larger than himself. And Charles. A tired brought on by being out in the world. In a big way.

New York.

DC.

Now Paris, France.

Then, the future.

If there was one.

When the sun was set and they flew through inky, black skies, Hank glanced back into the softly lit cabin. Logan was slightly reclined in his seat, his eyes barely open. But vigilant, always vigilant. Though he had described the dark, desolate future to them, Hank wondered just how bad it must be to become so grim, so haunted as Logan seemed to be.

Charles had previously returned to the cabin, mute and sullen. Hank saw him drinking again. Charles, always drinking. Shoring up those protective barriers of alcohol against whatever might try to break though. Erik, peaceable once more. Imbibing an apparently sumptuous shot of alcohol and offering an olive branch of chess.

Good. It was good they were talking. Quietly. Calmly.

Hank wasn't really a very good lip reader. But one phrase he did notice and it surprised him.

_Did he just . . . apologize? The right and mighty Erik? Wow. I wonder what that feels like. To have someone admit that they've done wrong by you._

Maybe they would actually survive this.

_Well, anything's possible._

* * *

**I would just love to fly a plane. 'Course I would need _LOADS_ of Dramamine to do it. And by that point, I'd be unconscious anyway. So whatever. **

**Yep, yep, thanks for the remind, angeleye02. Everybody Youtube "Everything Wrong with X-Men: First Class". Hilarious! If you already have, go watch it again! Never gets old. **

**And as much as I LOVE XMen: DoFP, you _will_ hear me howling and laughing with joy whenever the CinemaSins guy does that one! Think of me, yeah?**

**Thanks to the ever loyal reviewers MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, lupoea2, Mog161, Princess Of Darkness12, Shanynde, lol, brigid1318, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, theFGnat, and angeleye02 for speaking up.**

**Thanks also to shir . pinhas .1, Aletta-Feather, and I've Been a Labrat (same as last time - Erik quote from X-Men FC?) for adding your support to this story. :)**

******Alright, tomorrow, we finally meet up with Raven. Wonder how Hank's gonna take that? *winks**


	7. Dangerous Exposure

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter : Dangerous Exposure

* * *

They had landed the plane in a private landing strip and rested for a few short, precious hours. In the late morning, they rented another car, and made their way through the streets of Paris. Logan, true to his declarations on their trip to the Maximoff house, drove with Charles riding shotgun. Erik and Hank, stoically sharing the backseat.

They slowly approached the building where the Paris Peace Accords were to commence within the hour. Hank observed throngs of people amassed outside. Milling about behind barricades with cameras and video recorders. Law enforcement personnel quietly alert to keep the peace.

For some reason, the gathered humans made Hank feel uneasy, exposed.

In a tunnel checkpoint, they were momentarily halted by a security pole and two guards. Without a word from any man within the car, Erik trapped the guards in a metal fixture and calmly raised the pole.

They drove through, stopped, and exited the vehicle in unison. Entering the historic building, the four men ascended the stairs urgently and with a sense of purpose. Advancing rapidly toward the upper levels where Hank had surmised Bolivar Trask was holding the fateful meeting.

And where Raven was going to attempt to kill him.

It was easy to decipher which one out of the many rooms it was.

There were grown men shouting and running away from it.

Hank walked into the large, impressively furnished conference room, following close behind Charles and Logan. Erik in the lead. Charles, calling Raven's name before he'd even cleared the threshold.

And Hank's heightened senses took in everything at once.

A long, shiny table in the center of the brightly lit room. Surrounded by red chairs, some overturned, some remaining upright. Suited bodies still on the floor. A rather small man with what appeared to be a dark, hairy caterpillar attached to his upper lip cowering against a far wall.

Retreating footsteps of those frightened humans fleeing from the scene of the attack. Shouts down the hall, down the stairs. Feelings of fear and confusion so thick in the air he could almost taste them on his tongue. The pungent mixture of various aftershaves and urine, for some of the previous occupants had lost control of their bodily functions upon attack.

A young military officer tasering her blue form during the few seconds it took for Erik to use his mutant powers to rip the cruel wires from her and fling them back into her captor's throat. And then that man falling, writhing, to the floor.

Then all that faded to unimportant nothingness when, for the first time in over ten years, he saw her.

As mature and focused as Hank was on the situation at hand, he simply could not stop his initial reaction to seeing Raven for the first time in all her unadorned blue glory. Lying flat out on the conference table, twitching from the electrical currents ravaging their last through her nerve endings.

_Oh wow, she is naked. She is really very much naked._

Then he mentally shook himself . . .

_Naked._

. . . and focused on the situation at hand.

He saw Charles leaning over her, tenderly stroking her slick red hair, whispering to her. And Hank wished it could have been him. Then he realized that he didn't.

And Charles reassuring her gently.

". . . come for you. Eric and I . . . together . . ."

_And me. And Logan. We're here too. I drove. I mean, flew. Also, there was P . . ._

He heard her throaty murmurs to Charles.

". . . never thought I'd see you again . . ."

_What? You knew where we were. We stayed put. You're the one who left, remember?_

But before Hank could feel the pain of her abandonment and feel the uprushing revival of his old anger and yearning all over again, his racing thoughts were interrupted by Logan falling back against the wall in some sort of sudden trance. Hank looked over at him, unsure of what was happening to the big guy or why.

Then a voice spoke with a hint of dread, of disbelief. Her voice.

"Erik?"

And another, similarly toned voice. That of Charles.

"Erik . . ."

He looked back again to the three before him and saw Charles, his hand raised peacefully. Raven, rising slowly, taking momentary refuge behind him.

And Erik, pointing a gun. At her.

Charles the wise, Charles the peacemaker, Charles the negotiator, Charles the talker. Charles who, as always, was trying to reason sense into that man whom sense could not reach.

". . . what are you doing?"

In a split second, Hank looked directly into those yellow eyes that took no notice of him and saw the woman within that knew the truth better than Charles. Or him. Could possibly know.

"Securing our future," Erik replied coolly, never breaking eye contact. "Forgive me, Mystique, but as long as you're out there, we'll never be safe."

He was going to shoot her. He was going to kill her.

Hank murmured Erik's name, completely aware that nothing he said would do anything but buy precious seconds for her to escape.

And her, now crouched like a beautiful, trapped tiger, begging her Charles to stop Erik and rescue her. Charles who was now powerless, having abandoned his mutant gifts for the privilege to walk again and live alone in his own mind. Charles, who confirmed his helpless to her, sounding fearful, regretful, and ashamed to admit it.

And Erik. Erik, who knew just how powerless his old friend was. And was absolutely convinced of what he must now do.

_Charles can't help you, Raven. But I can. _

And so Hank, unassuming Hank, who no one seemed to consider a real threat. Rational Hank who was but a brilliant scientist and their airborne taxi driver. Gentle Hank who had a big, blue beast caged up inside him, lunged low for the man of metal to throw him off balance. Grabbed his arm to knock the gun from his hand even as it fired.

To save her.

They crashed to the floor as the sound of shattering glass broke in his ears. Struggling for the a few brief moments as her scent faded with her out into the air. Taking a punch from Erik who then turned to scuffle with Charles.

Then Erik rose.

Free. Dangerous.

Toward her.

Hank McCoy had done what he could.

And now it was the Beast's turn.

He called upon him and let him go, feeling the energy coursing through his veins and muscles and out of his pores. He felt it surge and swell and he welcomed the strength and the power to fight against the murderous mutant.

Logan was experiencing some sort of unstable reaction and flailing and shouting but all Hank could think about was saving her.

Raven.

From Erik. And his metal bullet.

Hank rose from the floor, blue, growling and snarling and flexing his muscles.

" . . . is that?!" Logan shouted staring at him, eyes wild, nostrils flaring.

Hank cut his eyes and threw an incredulous expression at him.

_Are you kidding?! Pull yourself together, Wolfy. No time to get episodic here. We've already got our resident nut and you're not it!_

Hank barely restrained a growl at the already frantic man.

Charles stood between them, hands up peaceably.

"I can deal with this," Charles assured him. "Just go! Stop Erik!"

Precious seconds had passed. Perhaps too many.

Hank ran to the window and saw Erik dragging a cloaked Mystique toward him, pulling her by the metal bullet he had buried in her right calf. She was screaming, terrified, unable to maintain her façade, rippling back into her natural blue form. Blood seeped from her leg. He could smell it from the window.

Erik, the powerful mutant madman, had curved the bullet and shot her anyway. Now he tore it out and floated it above his upturned palm.

He was going to finish the job. Hank had not been able to save her.

But the Beast was about to change all that.

Whatever compassion he had ever felt for Erik's wronged incarceration, evaporated in an atomic explosion of vicious rage and hate.

_**DON'T HURT HER!**_

With a deep snarl and animalistic roar, he leapt out of the stories-high window and landed directly on Erik with bone-jarring viciousness, crashing them both to the ground. Heedless of the throngs of humans and their cacophonies of screams, he roared again. Grabbing Erik, tossing him away like a rag doll, bashing the back of his head onto the concrete and flinging them both into a reflecting pool.

He thrashed around, attacking Erik, holding him down under the water. Allowing his animal side to completely take over. Pressing him down, away from life-sustaining oxygen. Raising him only long enough to roar his rage then shove him under the water again.

He never considered whether he was trying to incapacitate the man or kill him.

He didn't care.

He was only dimly aware of all the metal objects in the area trembling with Erik's surging, desperate power.

Just as the underwater flailing slowed to a stop, living metal arms coiled themselves around Hank's arms and legs, wrenching him out of the water and holding him aloft.

He strained against his bonds, against his exposure.

He roared in fury. At them. All of them. The entire world. And Erik.

Erik moving away, still alive and dangerous. Flinging rows of screaming civilians out of his path as if they were dolls. Not even caring enough to look back at them.

Because he was looking for her.

But Hank, the Beast remained aloft.

Caught. Captured. Put on display. For all to see.

Moisture dripped from his bestial face and his water logged clothes. Masses of screaming, ogling humans witnessed his rage. As did cameras, video recorders, and television broadcasts.

_They see me. I tried to hide away for so long and now everyone can see me. Does she see me?_

Finally, with a heaving strain and roar thrown into the empty skies, Hank McCoy finally broke free and fell back into the pool with a splash.

He rose immediately, looking around.

Trask was alive.

Eric was gone.

Raven was gone.

Again.

He growled and ran away from the crowds. On all fours.

Like a beast.

* * *

**Yeah, our intelligent, respectful guy Hank went full retard (Tropic Thunder, anyone?) when he first saw the sky-clad, blue Raven. Couldn't even help it, poor guy. Remember, this is the same guy in X-Men: FC who briefly fondled a mannequin's left mammary in the Havoc's practice room, right? Yep, I fell right out on the floor during that scene too. So he is, in fact, a _guy_. **

**By the way, in my world, 'retard' is a term for acting stupid, _NOT_ used to make fun of those with physical/mental handicaps, never. I think we all (no matter our sexual orientation) had the same reaction.** **She looked super cool but that chick was really, like, _exposed_. Yes, I know the scales covered her, but still, people, _dang_.**

**Kudos to Jennifer Lawerence cause I never could have done that. Here's how it would have gone for me: "And . . . Action!" ~ "Ahh! Don't look at me!" ~ "Argh, Cut! Jen, can you do this?" ~ "Yes, yes, I can do this." ~ "Okay. And . . . Action!" ~ "Ahh! Don't look at me!" ~ "Argh, _Cut_!"**

**Okaayyy, moving on . . .**

"**Does she see me?" Who is the 'she'? Raven or Hope? Yes, I did write that on purpose. And no, I'm not telling. You decide for yourself, yeah?**

**Thanks to Remember the BadWolf for the suggest. :)**

**Thanks to angeleye02, brigid1318, Mog161, Shanynde, lupoea2, theFGnat, and MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul for reviewing.**

**Thanks as well to those quiet readers out there. I see you and I appreciate you very much. :)**


	8. Things That Must Be Said and Done

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 8: Things That Must Be Said and Done

* * *

In accordance with their contingency plan, Hank fled back to the safety of the plane. It was empty. Once assured that he was alone, he locked himself in the tiny lavatory and wedged himself as far as he could into the smallest space available. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, slowly, calmly. He concentrated on empty, quiet nothingness.

Or tried to.

She kept popping into his head uninvited.

Raven. Blue, scaly, unadorned form. Alive.

Erik. Blank faced, hovering bullet. Deadly.

The sounds of screams, the smells of fear.

The cold feel of restraining metal, the black taste of rage.

The humiliation, the shame of capture, of exposure.

Underlying whispers of another her.

Of how she might react if she knew of everything inside him.

Hate, fear, loathing, disgust, hurt?

Hank found he couldn't concentrate at all.

Agonizing minutes passed slowly.

He started over. Thought of her again. Visualized her. Made her real.

Bright, open smile. Lilting, carefree laugh.

The sincere way she listened when he talked. The melodic sound of her voice when she spoke.

Her intelligence. Her gentleness. Her light.

Her warmth when she hugged him. Her soft lips when she kissed his cheek.

Flowing dark hair. Warm brown eyes.

Sticky mutant fingers. Orange toenails.

Finally, the beast slowly melted away and he silently thanked them both.

Then Hank changed out of his wet clothes and into dry.

He washed his face with cold water, brushed his short, dark hair.

Exiting the lavatory, he saw Charles and Logan enter the plane together.

"There you are," Charles commented mildly, sounding relieved.

Hank stowed his bag away without really looking at either of them.

"You okay?" Logan casually asked.

Hank nodded. He could feel the big guy watching him closely.

"Well, I brought your glasses," Logan said, holding them out. "Figured they might help you not fly us into a mountain or something."

Hank smiled just a little, nodding in appreciation, and took them.

Put them on. Observed the world sliding into focus once more.

"So what should we do now, Professor?"

Charles tiredly rolled his eyes at Logan.

"Please don't call me that," he muttered. "And I don't know."

The three men stood in the cabin, surrounded by dark blue, each wondering silently if it had been enough. Each considering the possibility that it hadn't.

Finally, Charles spoke.

"Hank, please take us home. We'll figure something out there."

* * *

As they entered the dim, quiet solitude of the manor, Charles suddenly groaned and collapsed against a pillar in the foyer. Worried, Hank immediately knelt beside him. Charles' serum was failing him, as evidenced by the weakness in his legs and the way he clutched at his head as if he were in excruciating pain.

"Why can't he walk?" Logan demanded.

Hank heaved Charles to his feet with a groan. He was sore from everything the last two days but he wasn't the important one right now.

"He needs his serum," he relayed to the alarmed man.

Charles was rambling, babbling as Hank settled him down in a nearby chair. He knelt before him, focused on his friend. His friend who was struggling, in pain. His friend who had tried so much these last few days.

His friend who was now falling to pieces.

"I can hear them! All of them!" Charles hissed, tears standing in his eyes again.

Hank knelt next to him, his gentle heart hurting for the suffering man. In the back of his mind he knew that Charles needed to embrace his telepathic gift and face the voices in his head more now than ever. They all needed him to be who he had once worked toward becoming so long ago.

With regret, he knew that man was no more and this weak-willed, serum-hungry shell on the floor was all that was left of the powerful man he had once believed in.

It hurt him greatly. And angered him.

But Hank, loyal and stalwart to his core, shoved it away all over again.

"It's okay. I'll get it, Charles."

Ignoring the judgment and consternation in Logan's penetrating gaze, Hank ran as fast as his human form would allow him to get the needed serum. He dashed up the stairs to Charles' quarters, reflexively avoiding the framed gaze of the innocent Raven. Grabbed a syringe that had already been prepped and placed ready for the next injection.

Two days ago.

A hundred years ago.

It had been too long and Charles had even missed an injection. Hank quickly upped the dose. For his friend in pain who had not tried so much in years. He'd reward him with an extra amount.

And then as Charles rested, he and Logan could formulate the next step of their plan. Whatever that might be.

As he ran back to the foyer, he argued with himself.

_Topped it off for you, Charles._

_Growl._

_Yes, I know he needs to do without._

_Growl._

_No, this is not the time to try to ease him off again._

_Growl._

_Shut up, he's my friend. He's in pain._

_Growl._

_I know._

Arriving again at Charles' side, ignoring the big guy who had started it all, he stopped next to the crumpled, defeated man. And held out the syringe to him. Hank might be resigned to Charles' addiction but he wasn't going to inject it for him.

He'd already done too much.

"I added a little extra because you missed a dose."

Logan spoke to Charles. Charles, with eyes only for the golden liquid in the syringe, ignored him. Charles, desperate for chemical reprieve.

Hank averted his eyes. Looked away because that hunger, that need that Charles had for the serum that he, Hank, had developed, shamed him.

It was partially Hank's fault that he had become this. He had developed it from his own personal serum. And now it had turned his friend into . . . _this_.

And he hadn't meant to. He'd only wanted to do something, to help.

And so Hank McCoy, ashamed and full of regret, hung his head slightly and looked away.

Because it hurt so very much to see.

Then Charles paused. With the needle jammed deep into his flesh. Looked again at Logan. Looked at Hank.

And stopped.

With a gut wrenching grimace, slowly placed the syringe down on the floor. Still completely full of soothing, liquid gold.

Hank watched him, barely able to breathe.

After a time spent composing himself, Charles spoke. His voice was surprisingly collected and calm. Though underneath it was roiling turmoil.

"Hank, would you do me a favor? Help me to my study, please."

And Hank felt a tentative whispering of hope.

And reached down for his friend.

* * *

Hank bore Charles' weight easily, thanks to the beast. Charles, on the other hand was panting with exertion and the renewed misery of his non-serumed condition.

He had refused the serum. He had _refused_ it.

He demanded it. Begged for it. Pleaded for it. Threatened for it.

He never _refused_ it.

They made careful, steady progress to the study. To the hidden door.

Hank opened it slowly, as if a monster lay lurking within.

It was only the chair. Charles' dreaded chair.

"You sure about this?"

Hank didn't want to ask. He didn't want to give Charles the opportunity to change his mind. But he spoke the words anyway. Though he didn't quite dare look at him when he said it either.

"Absolutely not," Charles replied heavily.

But he hobbled painfully toward it anyway.

And Hank McCoy helped him.

* * *

As carefully as he could, knowing the mental agony it was causing his suffering friend, Hank helped him settle into the wheelchair. As soon as he sat, Charles expelled a heavy sigh. He placed an elbow on the armrest and held his sweating forehead in a trembling hand. Grimacing, breathing deeply, eyes squeezed shut, a glare of determination upon his face. He appeared to be barely withholding tears.

Again.

Logan had left the room. They were alone.

"Need anything?" Hank asked quietly.

_That is a highly illogical question for anybody to ask. Much less a scientist. Of course he does. He needs independently working legs, a serum-free peaceful mind, and his mutant sister back. He needs lots of things. Stupid question._

Opening his eyes, looking haunted and diminished, Charles shook his head, not quite meeting Hank's gaze.

Wishing to leave his friend to his quagmire of emotions in dignity, Hank nodded silently and turned away.

He made it halfway across the room before Charles spoke.

"I know what you've done."

Charles's tone was unthreatening but it caused Hank to stop. Alert, speculating at the meaning of the abrupt statement.

Was this the commencement of yet another verbal emotionally-charged attack? A scapegoat to throw his misery and angst upon when he could no longer shoulder it himself?

Hank waited.

"I know what you've done for me."

Hank remained still, his back to the man in the chair.

"I know what you've suffered in this house with me as I hid away all these years. I know about your misery, your loneliness, your isolation."

Hank lowered his head a little. He closed his eyes.

"Stay out of my head, Charles."

It wasn't a threat. Simply a weary request. Of a man who had stoically endured so much. For himself. For his friend.

Charles sighed.

"I haven't been in your head, Hank. I don't need to be. I saw it written all over you every day you were here with me. Alone in this big, empty house with a vindictive, self-pitying, drunken bastard."

Hank still didn't turn around. He didn't look back. He didn't think he could.

"You were the only one that stayed with me, Hank. And you didn't deserve to have to live that way."

A swelling ache began to build in his heart, working its way through his sternum. A solid lump formed in the base of his throat. His vision blurred and burned.

_I am not going to cry. Men don't cry. Not even blue, furry, mutant men. Except when sometimes they do. But I'm not. I'm not going to._

"I saw it every day and I was just too selfish and miserable to care."

Hank clenched his jaw tightly. Listening. Listening so carefully. Charles was silent for a moment, as if he were gathering more of his thoughts together. Then he continued.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you, Hank. You have been more than a true friend and I don't deserve you."

Hank finally forced himself to turn and look at Charles Xavier. The man sitting in the chair had tears in his eyes again but for once they were the right kind of tears.

Charles looked at him. Clearly, directly. Through his renewed pain and misery, the good man who had once been Professor Charles Xavier spoke sincerely to his long suffering friend.

"Thank you, Hank."

Hank's chest and heart swelled so full of pressure and emotion he didn't think he contain it all. He swallowed thickly and spoke the only words he could muster.

"You're welcome, Charles."

_Thank you._

And then he turned and fled the room before he really did cry.

* * *

**Slight conjecture there between scene transitions.**

**No, the apology scene is not in the movie. Should have been though. I cannot express how much it should have been.**

**It's righting (writing) the wrongs in so many ways. I won't steal your time away to explain. I know. And that's enough for me.**

**Okay change of topic (sorta) before _I_ weep again. Did anyone else notice Hank is like the Samwise Gamgee of this movie? Always there (well mostly) listening to Frodo whine and moan? Dragging his pitiful butt up Mount Doom when he couldn't do it for himself? Nobody saying thank you or anything? **

**No? Alrighty, apparently, it's just me. I'm cool with that.**

**Thanks to angeleye02, brigid1318, Shanynde, Princess Of Darkness12, lol, lupoea2, Mog161, and MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul for so loyally reviewing.**

**Tomorrow, we face Cerebro.**


	9. To Overcome and Persevere

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 9: To Overcome and Persevere

* * *

They stood in the steel-blue tiled hallway, facing that which Charles Xavier dreaded most of all.

The door to Cerebro.

Hank on his right, Logan on his left. Flanking the man finally facing what he had turned away from for so long.

And the anxious telepath in the middle, resigned once more to his chair.

The sheer dread and near terror emanating from the man in the chair poured off him in waves. Hank didn't even need his heightened beast senses to detect it. It was so palpable in the air that it could almost be cut with a knife.

Charles didn't look any different. Still shaggy, his eyes sunken and puffy from too much chemical indulgence and emotional distress. But underneath all of that, Hank glimpsed the man of principal and hope struggling to break free from the man of misery and fear.

And loyal Hank stood beside him, hoping, praying, that this time his friend would finally find his way out.

Logan, the big guy, the one who had started this whole thing, stood silently on the other side.

He had intruded literally and figuratively uninvited into Hank's quiet existence. He had completely interrupted his immediate plans and punched him in the face. And then proceeded to drag him and Charles both from the safety of their secluded existences and into an exhilarating world of danger, exposure, and adventure.

All these things and the inadvertent challenge to the beast inside made Hank constantly want to punch _him_ in the face.

He refrained. Logan was his friend now. Though he still visualized it from time to time.

And yet, without this big, gruff, hairy guy barging his way into their lives, Charles would still be shut away. Sulking in the shadows, denying his powers. Ignoring the desperate wails of those who needed his help.

And Hank. Hank would still be letting him.

And so with his brusque attitude and abrupt introductions, Logan the Wolverine had given Hank back his hope.

Well, not _his_ Hope. The big guy had actually taken her away from him for the immediate future. Hank, his sincere confessions, and his intended heartfelt offerings, unfortunately, would just have to wait a little longer to come to fruition.

_I'm sorry, Hope. But I can't turn away from this._

There was, literally, future-changing work to be done. And hopefully, when the time finally came and Hank told her, she would understand.

Because it was her future as well.

Or he would, quite possibly, get punched in the face again.

Hank's musings were interrupted by Logan.

"When was the last time you were down here?"

Hank answered as Charles seemed decidedly mute with fear at the moment.

"The last time we went looking for students."

Charles was clutching the armrests of his chair, very nearly _clawing_ them.

"A lifetime ago," he answered dramatically.

The machine scanned Charles' face as he seemed to struggle not to tremble and the door to Cerebro smoothly unlocked and opened for the first time in ages. The man in the chair, his scruffy face tense with strain, wheeled forward toward that which he had thrown away from himself for so long.

The voices of those in need, those in fear, those in supplication.

It looked the same as it had many years ago when Hank had seen Charles last use it. It looked the same as it had when every so often Hank had gone to check on it, to keep it primed and ready for usage. His way of keeping the faith that it would, once more, one day, be utilized for the good of all mutant (and perhaps man) kind.

He had given that up in the last several years. It had just seemed so pointless. And painful. He just couldn't do it anymore.

And now the vast, circular chamber awaited.

The terrified man in the wheelchair slowly rolled in.

And Hank and Logan the Wolverine walked with him.

They reached the horseshoe shaped control panel. Hank adjusted a dial though he knew Charles could do it himself. It felt like that small gesture was one of support. Little as it was.

"Raven's wounded." Her name felt strange on his tongue. "She's won't be moving fast."

Silent supporters. Silent observers. Silent witnesses to the vast power and excruciating pain of Charles Xavier.

As he picked up the silver helmet and slowly, with fear and dread, blew off the dust.

The literal and metaphorical dust.

"These are muscles I haven't stretched in a long time," he stated heavily.

And slowly placed it on his head.

* * *

The flashing lights and swirling sounds and images gave Hank a sense of falling through a vast void of timelessly exploding space. He felt a sense of vertigo wash over him but he stood fast and the beast inside helped him maintain a stoic outer appearance. He glanced surreruptiously over at Logan who seemed entirely focused on the surreal display and completely unaffected by the roiling universe around them.

Charles, that man once so brave and eager to test out Hank's greatest invention now seemed overwhelmingly terrified. He groaned, he gasped. He flinched away, he cried out.

Hank stood unmoving, trying to ignore the shame and disappointment he felt at the sorry fall of the great and once fearless man that now cowered before them. He glanced at Logan on the other side of Charles and saw the same thoughts and feelings in his grave expression as well.

_Growl._

_Yes, I know. He's weak._

_Growl. _

_Well, he hasn't tried in a long time._

_Growl._

_But at least he _is_ trying._

_Growl._

_I know, I know. But this is all the time we have, Beast._

_Growl._

_Well, then, you do it. I certainly can't._

_Growl. _

_I know. But come on, stop with those negative waves, right?_

Logan called out Charles' name just before Cerebro's control board exploded in shards of glass, fiery sparks and fearsome spurts of electricity from its console.

"I can't do it! It's too much!"

The flashing lights faded and stopped. The screams still echoed in their ears.

Silently, gentle Hank McCoy uttered a curse so foul that even the rough, tough Beast blinked in surprise and shock.

_Growl?!_

_Oh shut up, Beast!_

Gathering his self-control, Hank stuffed all his raging frustration and crushing disappointment deep down inside himself.

As the broken man in the chair flung the helmet off his head, Hank called out his name and reached down to look at him. Comfort him. Encourage him.

When he spoke, he felt a dim sense of pride that his words were so calm and even. When his insides were so violent and raging.

"I'll check the generator."

And with complete control and absolute serenity, he averted his eyes from the men he could no longer look directly upon and left the room to go attend to the generator.

* * *

He returned some time later, walking the well-lit corridor and into Cerebro, pretending to himself and those men awaiting him that he believed that this time, _this time_, it might work.

He spoke once more in his even and calm tone, cultivated carefully only by his strength of resolve and self-control.

"The power's back on."

Logan stood off to the side, appearing pensive. Charles looked up at Logan and smiled slightly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes made Hank pause and consider Charles more closely. Past the tangled hippie hair and bloodshot gaze, he thought he saw again a glimpse of the man he used to know. The man he'd once been befriended by. The man he'd once believed in.

The man who now turned with renewed determination and looked back at Cerebro.

_Okay, what'd I miss?_

* * *

And so Charles tried again.

And succeeded in finally making contact. With her.

Apparently, whatever had transpired between Logan and Charles had worked.

_Wish you had been here before, Logan. Would've made my life a whole lot easier._

But would it have?

Hank couldn't see her or hear her in the void when Charles focused in. He was privy to only one side of the urgent conversation.

"Raven, stop. Stop running."

_Yes, please. Stop. Stop this madness._

"Back at the house. Where you should be. I need you to come home."

_Um, Charles, can we, perhaps, discuss that part? I'd like to discuss that part._

"If you kill Trask, you'll be creating countless more just like him."

_Well, maybe not _just_ like him. He is very unique._

"Those are Erik's words, not yours."

_Erik, yes, Erik. Nearly drowned him, you know. Wish I'd finished the job._

"The girl I grew up with wasn't capable of killing. She was good, fair, full of compassion."

_And she liked to dance. On couches as I recall. I miss her. You, not so much. You are alien to me now._

Logan murmured words that turned Hank's beast blood cold.

"Shut her down, Charles. Get in her head."

Charles gritted his teeth and replied, his voice strained.

"She's not letting me. I'm barely holding on. I'm not strong enough yet."

_Well, that's a new trick she didn't have before. I don't like it._

Charles continued his pleading exhortations.

"I know what Trask has done. But killing him will not bring them back. It will set you on a path from which there is no return. An endless cycle of killing. Us and them. Til there is nothing left. But we can stop it. Right now. You and I. You just have to _come_ _home_."

The lights dimmed and stopped swirling. The connection was broken.

And by all appearances, they had failed. But Charles. Charles had at least succeeded in facing the wailing cacophony of those many voices in the void.

_So that's something, I suppose._

"Where is she?" Logan queried adamantly.

Charles, frustrated and helpless, with tears standing in his eyes once more said, "She's in an airport boarding a plane."

"A plane to _where_?" Logan pressed.

After a moment, Charles replied.

"Washington, DC."

_Oh, that's not good at all. Not at all. _

"Guys," Hank said. "There's something I need to show you."

* * *

**Though it seems like Hank is very calm and passive during the first Cerebro scene, I just feel his rage and frustration at all this. I mean, he's put up with the once strong, now weak-willed Charles for all these years. And now is their chance to come out of the darkness and be useful. And there's Charles, just crying all over again. **

**Ugh. **

**Or maybe I'm just a nut. You decide.**

**On a lighter note, the punching thing is a funny undercurrent 'cause apparently the cast (word is, Jennifer Lawerence started it - that's my girl!) spent a good part of their time punching the living daylights out of each other and playing war with BB guns (which I had as a kid, btw). Haha!**

**And may I say, thanks. To theFGnat (and your gentle corrections. Thanks, sweetie.), lupoea2, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, angeleye02, Shanynde, Mog161, Princess Of Darkness12, Nobs, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, and my eloquent brigid1318 for taking the time to speak up. **

**Thanks also to WIP-Writer In Progress for adding your support to this retelling. :)**

**And thanks to brigid1318 for correcting my spelling. Yeah, 'Hooked on Phonics' totally did not work for me and my spell check apparently just punk'd me. ;)**

**Tomorrow, Hank's going to invite us into his media room. Yay!**


	10. PBS and Quantum Physics

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 10: PBS and Quantum Physics

* * *

Hank led them to his favorite spot in the entire house. Well, besides his lab.

His media room.

He opened the door and walked inside, talking more rapidly than usal.

"This is the system I designed to record any news about Paris. Over all three networks. And PBS."

It was one of the smaller rooms in the manor. Cramped with carefully selected equipment and organized for maximum efficiency. Several desks pushed neatly together to create the maximum amount of available space. A television monitor for each station. NBC, CBS, ABC. And PBS, of course. That was the newest. Stacks of visual and audio recording equipment. Carefully bundled cables, metal shelving holding various equipment. A fan to cool him off when all the energy output proved a little too warming. Sets of control panels, even a modified typewriter to script out dialogue and information.

_Cool, isn't it? Just don't touch anything. And don't sit in my chair. That's my spot._

He moved around quickly, not taking his usual time to enjoy and appreciate his handiwork. He settled himself comfortably in his chair. Behind him, the seated Charles and the grim Logan looked around at Hank's technological media masterpiece.

"All three? Wow."

Logan sounded slightly sarcastic.

"_And_ PBS," Hank emphasized.

Logan threw him a unimpressed look.

_Why? How many do you have in the future? Do you have four? Ooh, maybe five? What do you put on all of them? Oh just please not more 'Hee-Haw'. I can only take so much and I think I've already reached my quota._

Hank mentally shook himself and focused on the task at hand.

"Look what I found."

He flipped a switch on the nearest screen.

A serious-looking newscaster appeared and began speaking, right where Hank had paused him.

". . . in front of the White House, the president will make his announcement . . ."

Flashing footage of various officials along with the diminutive scientist, Bolivar Trask. Him who Raven was so adamant to kill.

Hank froze the screen . . .

_Look, not only can I record television, I can pause it. Rewind it. Play it back. Fast forward. Ahem, anyway . . ._

. . . and turned to the concerned men behind him.

Charles spoke first.

"If she kills Trask at an event like that with the whole world watching . . ."

Charles trailed off, the implications clear. Logan finished his own thought aloud.

". . . then I came a long way for nothing."

Hank didn't want to say it. He _hated_ to say it. He'd rather relax and watch Star Trek. Even if Kirk's vocal patterns were irritating and Spock's eyebrows made him rub his own thoughtfully.

_Still, it has to be said._

"And there's more bad news," he confessed. "I heard in a report that they found traces of her blood in Paris."

_So it may already be too late. Unless by chance it's actually Erik's blood. Pretty sure I beat some out of him._

"For all we know, they already have her DNA."

_And those amazing leukocytes._

"Which is all they need . . ."

Logan grimly finished the sentence for him.

". . . to create the Sentinels of the future."

The mood in the room was dark. Not even television Scotty_ (I'm giving her all she's got, Cap'n!) _could lighten it with his enthusiasm.

Hank sighed, clasping his long, thin fingers together.

_Better say it all and be done with it. Go on, McCoy._

"There's a theory in quantum physics. That time is immutable."

_How to explain it to nonscientists?_

"It's like a river. You could throw a pebble into it, create a ripple. But the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just keeps flowing in the same direction."

_Hey, not too bad. Maybe I should be a teacher when this is all over. If I'm not dead._

"What are you trying to say?"

_Okay, maybe not._

Hank McCoy considered himself to be a logical, cool-headed scientist. And though his heart was as big as anyone else's, he still had to think rationally. No matter how much he hated it.

And so he spoke. Words he loathed to speak but must nevertheless

"What I'm saying is, what if the war is inevitable? What if she's meant to kill Trask? What if this is just simply who she is?"

_I'm sorry, Raven. I'm sorry, Hope. But I just can't run around on blind faith anymore._

Charles seemed to consider this and then replied with all the peace and belief of that Zen master the Beatles had purportedly been hanging out with.

"Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn't mean they're lost forever."

This was the voice and reasoning of a man who always chose to look for and believe in the inherent good and possibility of others. Always ready to try to help. Leader of the X-Men. Founder of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

_This_ was the man he'd follow anywhere, do anything for. _This_ was the man who could change the world. _This_ was a good man.

The man for whom Hank had been searching for ten long, embittering years.

_This_ was Professor Charles Xavier.

"No. I don't believe that theory, Hank. I cannot believe that is who she is."

Hank McCoy looked at the resolute man in the chair before him.

_Very pretty words. I'm glad to hear them. Now where have _you_ been the last ten years? And what do you plan to do now?_

Then Professor X gave his directive.

"Ready the plane. We're going to Washington."

* * *

Hank readied the plane as instructed. And then since the event was two days in the future and he was exhausted, he withdrew to himself for a while. He fed his hungry body, showered, and listened to his churning mind that never seemed to slow down in its rapid machinations.

Except sometimes when he was with her.

But for now, without her, his thoughts ran rampant.

Where was Erik?

And what was he planning?

Where was Raven?

How were they going to stop her from killing Trask?

Raven, who could disguise herself as anyone she chose. Raven, who could not see that her well-intentioned actions were setting the entire world on a path of destruction that it could never recover from.

How could they, the tiny pebbles, really change the flow of the powerful river of annihilation that seemed to surge onward into the unknown future?

Human and mutant kind already used up resources at an alarming rate. And the planet only had so much to offer up as collateral. Did it really need the brutal force of shape-shifting sentinels and an interspecies war to help it along?

Before he could become paralyzed with the grim possibility of all that might be, Hank forced himself to rest for a few hours.

He slept surprisingly well considering he might die tomorrow and never see his orange toenailed Hope again.

* * *

The plane ride to Washington the next day was much smoother than the previous one to Paris.

Which was good.

Because Hank suspected they were heading straight into war.

And he didn't want to be.

* * *

**Welcome back, Charles! We've been waiting ever so (not) patiently for you, buddy! Yay!**

**A bit of a lighter chapter here (some of it anyway) and I'm not apologizing for that. We really needed an emo break. Well, I did. :)**

**The Hee-Haw snipe was for my brigid1318. There you go, sweetie. Somebody just blowed up a cow, I know. Grit your teeth and you and me and Hank and R will all get through it together, okay? I promise. *group high five!**

**Yeah, Star Trek was playing on one of Hank's televisions so I had to throw that in there. And even though it's not really my thing, Zachary Quinto (Sylar!) in the new one changed my mind. A little.**

**Of course I had to do the BBT 'that's my spot' joke. We quote it in my house all the time. My 9 year says it and even makes up different knocks. Plus, the media room is totally Hank's domain, right? ;)**

**Thanks to brigid1318, lol, Mog161, Shanynde, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, lupoea2, and theFGnat for continuing to so loyally review. I am most grateful to you and everyone who is choosing to read this story.**

**Thanks to Pazithia . Gallifreya for adding your support to this tale as well.**


	11. This is the Way the World Ends

I do not own X-Men: Day of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 11: This is the Way the World Ends

* * *

It was easier than Hank expected to gain access to the momentous event. Surprisingly easy. Disturbingly easy.

In D.C., they parked the rental vehicle in a lot a few blocks away from their destination. Then they walked to the public entrance of the historic White House, moving easily among strolling, milling groups of unassuming humans.

Both dressed in clean, presentable clothing, Hank pushed Charles along in his simple metal wheelchair. Logan with them, in his worn jeans and a black shirt. There were a few other long-haired, more casually dressed men attending the ceremony also. Post Vietnam soldiers perhaps, lending their support, misguided though it was, to the government project.

So Hank figured Logan didn't stand out too much.

_Except for that hair. It's just, well . . ._

Security checkpoints. Guards inspecting people's invitations and belongings. Sending them through metal detectors.

Hank in the role of dutiful steward, pushed Charles through slowly. When the metal wheelchair caused the machine to siren, he smiled congenially while Charles played the part of pretentious and irritable quite well.

_Nothing of interest here. Just a few normal, human civilians. Here to stop the assassination of an ambitious mutant-murdering scientist. As you were, gentleman._

As Charles subtly influenced an inquiring guard into believing they did indeed have invitations, Hank saw Logan walk through the detector with an anticipatory expression on his rugged face. Then looking slightly surprised, he turned and stared for a moment at the machine.

_What? You were expecting it to go off? Do you think you're made of metal or something? That would be rather unfortunate, wouldn't it? Considering Erik _controls_ metal and all._

Charles called out Logan's name and he moved toward them, resetting his dark sunglasses on his abashed face.

_Well, now that we all have our ocular accessories, let's move on then, shall we?_

Together they advanced onto the green, pristinely manicured front lawn of the White House. Patriotic symbols abounded. Cameras, video recorders, news media everywhere. Neat rows of white chairs. Facing a raised platform with more chairs and a podium embossed with the presidential seal. Behind all that, a huge banner behind it obscuring their view of . . . something.

The banner was decorated with a mixture of the American flag and the Trask Industries symbol.

That disquieted and disturbed Hank even further. Subliminally influencing those present and viewing it on their televisions to meld the two together.

They found a spot at the end of one middle row that gave them a good view of the gathering people and the stage. Hank and Logan stood alert, knowing they'd never see her. But looking, searching for anything out of the ordinary, anything suspicious. Charles, still hiding behind his large amber sunglasses, rapidly scanning the minds of those in the crowd for her.

Hank briefly wondered what it would be like to be able to touch the minds of others. Read their innermost thoughts and feelings like an open book. The ability to directly affect those thoughts and actions on a whim. He decided he never wanted to know.

_Not for me, thanks. Too much power. Too much control._

"I haven't found her yet," Charles relayed to them. "But she _has_ to be here."

Men in suits were now taking the stage. Cabinet members and advisors. Military officers. About forty of them in all.

Hank saw the man who had tazered Raven among them.

_Growl._

_Yes, I see him._

_Growl._

_No, you can punch him later._

And then there was him.

Bolivar Trask.

Expensive suit. Carefully coiffed dark hair and groomed moustache. Self-assured aura. Stern expression behind big, round glasses.

It was darkly fascinating. The man simply knew what he was doing was in the best interests of the human race. Of the entire world. All that brilliance and power and destruction held within such a diminutive frame.

Even now, the scientist in Hank wanted to converse with him. Hours long discussions. With protective glass between them. For Trask's sake. In case the Beast wanted to talk too.

Hank and Logan glanced at each other restlessly.

Time. Too much time. Too much time was passing, draining away. It felt like something was going to happen.

Suddenly, a band began playing the Presidential Anthem and the gathered crowd rose to their feet, standing respectfully and clapping. The president himself walking the stage, waving a welcoming acknowledgement to the crowd.

The gathered humans resumed their seats, avidly listening to the president begin his speech.

If Hank had to confess, he was only half paying attention.

"My fellow Americans, today we face the greatest threat in our history: mutants. . ."

_Well, that's racist._

The microphone sent the man's unique vocal resonations out over the crowd, over the radio and television waves. To every person who cared to listen.

"In the immortal words of Robert Oppenheimer . . ."

_Are you serious?! The Father of the Atomic Bomb?! _That's_ your inspiration?! Oh you imbecilic son of a . . _

And then the giant cloth fell, revealing . . . them.

And Hank felt his stomach drop into his feet. Felt surging black dread well up in him.

Them. A long line of them. Gleaming, gigantic behemoths. Each identical and over three stories tall. Grey and purple monstrosities. Advanced weaponry attached to their arms. Giant thrusters on their chests. Smooth, blank, humanoid faces behind clear shields.

_Faces? Why do they have faces? So you can feel a sense of familiarity looking into _your_ face right before you die?_

Sentinels. Mutant-murdering robots. Destroyers of the world.

The band had resumed playing. The crowd stood, clapping in awe. Saluting. Whistling. Cheering. A cacophony of noise.

The weather was bright and pleasant. It didn't look like the birth of a mass species extinction at all.

Trask, smiling with pride.

And Hank knew the world had gone completely insane.

_I should've called her_, he thought randomly, without knowing it. _I really should have called her._ _But I didn't. Why didn't I call her?_

"Raven?" Charles called out suddenly. "I have her!

He pointed. Hank and Logan followed his direction.

"There. See? Secret Service man. Left of the stage."

Hank found her. Cloaked in the guise of a middle aged man. Pomaded hair. Dark suit. Frozen in place nearly at the steps. One hand reaching into a jacket pocket. No doubt gripping a firearm. Preparing for the kill.

"Got it," Logan responded.

"Go," Charles said.

Hank and Logan moved as one toward the stage. Through the gathering of humans. Unassuming humans who had no idea what was transpiring before their very eyes.

Then the Sentinels switched on, one after another. Power cores revving. Yellow eyes blinking to life. Rising, hovering into the air.

_A demonstration, really? But . . ._

Then Hank saw Trask and the other men on the stage look up, suddenly confused, uncertain, alarmed.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

A security officer waylaid them as they neared the immobilized Secret Service Agent Raven.

"Gentleman, you cannot pass this point."

Hank and Logan looked at the clueless human as the automatons flew out over the crowds of ecstatic people. Hank opened his mouth to formulate a response.

Then the machines opened fire.

On cars, people, everything. Cheers and whistles turned to screams and cries of fear. Hank and Logan looked around the scattering humans, the panic and chaos momentarily overwhelming them. Then Logan ran for cover and Hank followed him. He'd lost his visual of the Secret Service Agent Raven.

She was gone.

So were the men who had previously been on the stage. Scuttling off like a line of fleeing ants. No doubt escorted away to an on-site secret bunker for their own protection and safety.

_Thank you for your service to our country, you cowardly men._

He glimpsed Charles, face raised upward, screaming at the skies. Hank barely had time to register what the man in the chair had been shouting right before a car exploded and he and Logan were thrown to the ground.

_Erik. Of course. Of course it would be him. _

But where? Were they working together? Him and Raven? Why? For what purpose?

From behind the burning car, Hank and Logan rose together, searching the smoking wreckage. A huge, looming shadow fell over them. Debris rained down. A thundering noise slowly filling Hank's ears.

Logan shouted Charles' name and then Hank saw him.

Lurching over and debris raining down upon him. Then he was gone. Hank noted his last location even as he ran as fast as he could to reach him. Ducking and dodging deadly chunks of falling metal and concrete.

And suddenly the world dropped down on them with a thunderous crash. Hank was thrown off his feet and momentarily back to his childhood, when life was simpler for the shy, monkey-toed boy.

_Wow, Chicken Little was right. The sky really _was_ falling. _

Actually it was a sports stadium.

_I hate athletics. _

Hank regained his feet, blinking the dust out of his eyes, the confusion out of his mind, and looked around. Saw Logan staggering to his feet as well.

They were surrounded, trapped.

On the White House lawn. With the Sentinels. And Erik.

* * *

**I just know there's an outtake of James Mcavoy saying "These are not the droids you're looking for. Move along." And did anyone else notice that meanwhile, a security guard totally sweeps that little wand metal detector in front of Hank's junk first before moving on?! (Dudes, I think I've seen this movie too many times if I'm noticing stuff like _that_! haha)**

**During the clapping for the Sentinels, my husband leaned over and whispered, "Just like when Palpatine took the Senate!" ~ I love my husband.**

**As I've pointed out in my Mystique one-shot, no jibe at all to the awesome Peter Dinklage or his form. I love that dude!**

**Thanks to brigid1318 for the advice, support, and input here. And the review. Thanks to Shanynde for totally psyching me out on that last chapter review. (laughs nervously; starts twitching; haha not kidding)**

**Thanks as well to loyal reviewers MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, theFGnat, lol, and Mog161. **

**And welcome to newcomer ChiefPam. Dudes, she not only is reading this story, but also read and reviewed the entire story of 'In Between' in one sitting! Holy cow! Big ole' virtual lollipop for you, sweetie! Thanks!**

**Alright, ready for a fight?**


	12. Fight or Flight

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 12: Fight or Flight

* * *

Hank scrambled up a towering pile of rubble, keeping pace with Logan. Once at the top, he surveyed the massive damage and the impending doom of the metal-controlling Erik and one looming bodyguard Sentinel. The rest were gone, Hank assumed, to patrol the perimeter.

He gazed at the grim vista before him. Erik, reigning supreme over the destruction he had caused. The huge powerful machine awaiting further orders.

A question suddenly formed on Hank's lips.

A question he could not stop.

_Don't ask. _

"I'm probably not supposed to ask this kind of thing . . .

_You're asking._

". . . but in the future . . .

_Stop asking._

". . . do I make it?"

Logan, keeping his eyes trained on the hulking metal beast, hesitated as if reluctant to respond.

"No. . ."

_Well, crap. Knew I shouldn't have asked._

He looked to Logan, alarmed and aghast. The big guy's gaze was direct, determined.

". . . but we can change that . . . right?"

_Um, okay, anything's possible. _

Hank knew they were both trying to convince themselves of the possibility of that truth. Without that conviction, they would not be as strong in the coming battle.

They had to believe they could win. Or at least fight and hold out until the end.

Hank pulled off his glasses with a resolute movement.

_Alright, Beast, I need you._

_Growl?_

_Yes, Beast, I am _officially_ inviting you to come out and play._

_Growl!_

Hank embraced his animal side and felt it pour into his physical form, changing it, enhancing it. Bursting out of him in a swelling of blue and fur and sharp teeth and dangerous claws. Stretching out, flexing his muscles, craning his neck, sliding into his alternate form like a man into a well-fitting shirt.

He took a deep breath, reveling as always in the power and strength that surged through him. Ready to take on anything.

He looked upon their enemy with an eager growl and perhaps even a touch of a grin, his orange eyes charged with bloodlust. The Wolverine beside him at the ready.

He saw the man Erik Lehnsherr, now complete in his Magneto regalia, turn and see them from afar.

Beast growled at him.

Then Magneto spoke to the waiting metal monstrosity and Beast's hypersensitive hearing picked up his cold directive.

"Do what you were made for."

This man who preached safety and freedom of his fellow brother and sister mutants at all any cost. This man who had indoctrinated Raven into his deadly philosophy until she barely resembled the beautiful spirit she had once been.

This man had just ordered their deaths.

Beast bared his teeth in rage.

_Thanks . . . Brother._

The orange eyed beast saw massive robot shift and without hesitation fire a burst of automatic rounds at them from its right appendage. Scatter shooting across open space, debris, and the concrete wall the powerful mutants ducked behind. Beast held still under the barrage.

As soon as the firing ceased, Beast saw Logan, now the Wolverine, leap out from safety of the barricade. The enormous purple and grey machine flew to meet his attack. Landing with a bone-rattling jar to the ground, the robot titan and the Wolverine fearlessly engaged in hand to hand combat. Wolverine hacking and punching with his bone claws in an attempt to break its firing mechanism.

_Bone claws against metal? How's that going to work?_

The robot caught the slashing claws in its gears and flung the big guy back.

_Like that, I suppose. Okay, my turn._

Beast crouched down into the ground, collecting his power and leapt high into the air, landing at the base of the rampaging Sentinel's neck. Thrown off balance, the automaton staggered, firing wildly.

"I got this!" he called to Logan. "Go!"

The Wolverine nodded and ran, making straight for Erik. Hank focused in on his target.

_Exquisite design. Flawless construction. Excellent craftsmanship. Nearly impenetrable._

Gripping the smooth metal at its edges with his hands and feet, Beast tore with his sharp teeth at the base of the neck at the cables and cords that he knew powered the behemoth. Tearing them out in shatters of sparks and spurts of mechanical fluid.

The automaton reached back and grabbed him, flinging him away like a ragdoll. Past the concrete and steel and crashing through reinforced glass into the backseat of a half crushed police car. The soft leather and padded seats provided little cushioning against the solidly brutal impact.

_Ow. Well, that was a short lived victory._

Hank could hear Logan yelling, roaring in obvious pain. Then the sounds faded. He wondered what was happening but right at that moment, he had his own set of problems.

The Sentinel advanced on the car and attacked it, undoubtedly sensing a mutant within. It tore jagged holes in the frame, reaching for him and missing and attacking again. He was trapped, no way in or out. And no room to maneuver into any sort of useful defensive or offensive position.

Amid the destruction of the vehicle, the orange-eyed, furry, blue mutant looked over and spotted the president standing before Erik with his hands raised in peaceful surrender. But he sensed something wrong about it. What sudden surge of nobility would keep the metal controlling mutant from destroying the brave man, then murdering all the rest?

_Unless it's not the real president . . ._

The car wasn't going to hold up much longer. The Sentinel was breaking in. Hank knew the Beast was done for. The sensors were aimed directly at him and as soon it identified his mutant self, it would fire and he would die without serving any other purpose but to be this thing's play toy.

_Good thing I planned ahead. Sorry, Beast._

He dug into a side pocket of his pants and grabbed a triple dose of serum filled syringes.

As the massive machine continued to desecrate the vehicle, Beast rammed the needles through his pants leg and into his blue furry flesh. Grunting at the stabbing pain, he depressed all the plungers at once and felt the serum flood his body, pushed even more rapidly through his system than usual due to his racing heart rate. His blue form melted away even as the serum stopped his heart for several seconds.

The Sentinel ripped the car hood off, revealing a very human, very frightened-looking young man with huge blue eyes.

_Nope, no mutant here. Just a human. Normal, terrified human. Human. See?_

_Growl._

_Shut up, Beast. I'm trying not to die here._

For a moment they locked eyes, mechanical robot orbs to frightened blues.

_I took so much serum that if this doesn't work, there's no way I can morph back and now I'm dead._

Then faintly, so faint he didn't realize it until later . . .

_Hope . . ._

Then the Sentinel turned away and Hank breathed a deep sigh of sweet relief. Mixed with a lemon whiff of shameful cowardice and surrender.

* * *

**How _cool_ was the final fight? And Hank's transformation into Beast?! I'm still geeking out about it! *crazy eyes* I only wish Beast could have gotten to fight more.**

**Thanks to Ssg1 (who didn't scream), angeleye02 (_never_ apologize for having a life, sweetie, cyberspace will wait, yeah?), Mog161 ,lupoea2, lol, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, Shanynde (it's okay I'm tough), and brigid1318 for taking the time to review.**

**And to I've Been a Labrat (don't you just _love_ that he delivers that line?), thanks for your fantastic review and hey, if you open up your PM, we can chat about the third story I'm developing for Hank! :D**

**Thanks to Imagination Queen for adding your support to this story. :)**

**Next, we refute the theory that time is immutable. Well, sorta.**


	13. The Pebbles Change the Current

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 13: The Pebbles Change the Current

* * *

The reduced form of Hank McCoy rose from the ruins of the police car and took stock of what he had missed.

Sentinel falling to pieces before the command of the helmeted Erik.

_Okay, great. How many more then?_

Large metal safe room upon the lawn, torn open to reveal a mass of terrified humans. Among them, the scientist Trask.

Hank just caught sight of Raven morphing out of her presidential cloak, holding a clear gun pointed at Erik. Dozens of guns falling to the ground. Erik's head jerking to the right, collapsing to his knees. Apparently she had shot him.

_She was never sacrificing herself or surrendering at all, no not her. She was just using misdirection to maneuver into a clear shot._

Now she was advancing on him. And he was talking to her, even now from his submissive position. Always talking, Erik. Just like Charles.

Hank scrambled out of the destroyed vehicle and toward the location of the trapped Charles, trying to keep an eye on the action. And avoiding the cutting debris with his bare feet.

Raven laid Erik low with a set of impressive attacks and he stayed down.

_Don't suppose you would mind doing that again for me, you fantastic blue mutant?_

Then Raven. Mystique, the cold-hearted creature she had become, turned, holding the gun at the ready. Pointing it in the direction of the frightened humans, presumably Trask. Preparing to do something that could never be undone.

Again.

Hank finally arrived at Charles. Charles, amber glasses gone, head bloodied. Charles, who lay flat on his back, half buried, completely trapped beneath a cage of wire and rubble. That Hank, try as he might, could not move. His beast was gone, his strength was human. He could not move the metal rebar and its concrete pilings a fraction of an inch.

So he was resigned to watch and wait.

To watch him.

Charles, his friend.

Charles, who was undoubtedly in pain. Charles, who was even now working for peace. Having frozen the terrified humans, he appeared to be projecting his image out in one last attempt to communicate with her, with Raven. Begging her, coercing her to stop.

Pleading with her to put the gun down.

And she was yelling at him, angry, confused, uncertain.

And if he didn't stop her, she would destroy the whole world with Erik's fear and hate.

". . . done so far is save the lives of these men."

His tone was calming, soothing. His words reasonable and begging for peace.

"You can show them a better path."

Hank waited.

And watched her.

Raven, Mystique.

She was trembling on the edge. Wavering between murder and peace. One wrong move, even so much as a fly buzzing in her ear, would set her off.

And world would be plunged into a dark chaos the likes of which it would never emerge from.

Charles was a man of words. And he had used all he could.

And Hank. Hank was a rational, logical scientist. In times of great duress, of emotional turmoil, never so much as now, he resorted to the safety and comfort of hyper-rationalism. He clung to it, wrapped himself in it. So he could make clear-eyed decisions in the face of all that was swiftly coming to pass.

Hank knew the time for words had come and gone. It was over.

Her chance was over.

The rest of them had to be given a chance too. And those ripples they had made in the river weren't going to be enough to change the flow of history without action.

What they needed was a dam. A huge one made of concrete and steel and cold logic.

"Shut her down, Charles."

_I'm sorry, Raven. But you can't be allowed to destroy the entire world. Even if you don't mean to._

Maybe if Charles took control of her and froze her, they could find a way to escape. Take her with them. Maybe even Erik. Retreat to the safety of the manor. Keep her safe and restrained until they could talk some sense into her. But they couldn't do it here. Not when time was running out and so much was at stake. But safely hidden away, perhaps they could devise a new plan. Get the Wolverine, Logan . . .

_Logan, where's Logan?_

. . . to help them.

_He was right here . . ._

Anything was possible. They'd survived this far.

But first Charles had to stop her. To save the world.

But the man half buried in rubble glanced at Hank. And smiled. Smiled up at him, serenely, shaking his head slightly. His eyes filled with shimmering tears.

"I've been trying to control you ever since the day we met . . ." he continued on to his projection toward Raven, Mystique as if Hank had never spoken at all.

_Not very successfully perhaps._

Hank alternated between watching the bloodied telepath and the blue skinned woman holding the glass gun toward the humans. Knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do.

". . . and look where that's got us."

_Yes, _look_. On the black precipice of world annihilation, Charles. Do it. Now. Shut. Her. Down._

"Everything that happens now is in your hands."

_With the gun, Charles? The gun?! Shut her down!_

But something was changing. She was no longer the rock she had been. Her resolve, her hate seemed to be cracking apart.

"I have faith in you, Raven."

As Charles continued encouraging her, Hank witnessed her inner struggle. Saw her fight back against the despair and ruthlessness of her mission. Saw her face change, her eyes begin to lose their hate.

Saw her lower her arm and drop the gun.

And allow the scientist Bolivar Trask to live.

Charles sighed his relief and let the connection go. He looked up at Hank again and Hank smiled hesitantly.

_Have we stopped it, Charles? Or is the inevitable simply postponed?_

* * *

**Now think about this. **

**They cannot truly have stopped the war because that would have caused a paradox in which there would never have been a reason to send Wolverine back in the first place to get them to stop Raven from killing Trask. Which means he wouldn't have gone back and Raven would have killed Trask anyway and the war would have gone on anyway.**

**See where I'm going here?**

** So at the end of the movie when everybody is still fine, then that means that the war is still inevitable. Just in a different form with a different catalyst.**

**Which means that the theory that time is immutable still stands. **

**And that's about the extent of my quantum physics comprehension. (Thanks to Dean Koontz for introducing me to that mind boggling concept when I was 11. ha)**

**Think Hank would be willing to tutor me? *hopeful grin**

**Thanks to Shanynde, lupoea2, lol, Mog161, Aletta-Feather, ChiefPam, I've Been a Labrat, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, brigid1318 for graciously reviewing. **

**Thanks to Marinelife37 for adding your support to this story as well. **

**Wrapping up the movie itself tomorrow but one original chapter written after that. So 15 in all.**


	14. Last Looks

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 14: Last Looks

* * *

It felt like the moment was frozen in time. Nobody daring to move, daring to breathe, daring to blink.

Raven seemed to be sending a silent message to the scientist whom she had just chosen not to kill and the rest of the government men.

Then she turned away. Reached down. Pulled off Erik's helmet that blocked telepathic links and tossed it away.

"He's all yours, Charles."

Hank watched Charles pause, as if making a decision. Then silently gesture his mind focus, grimacing with effort. Or was it determination? Revulsion?

_Uh, a little information here, Charles? What are you doing?_

Erik Lehnsherr abruptly rose, nearly levitating straight up off the ground.

Then Charles reached out his hand in a sweeping motion and Erik mimicked him.

The mass of concrete and metal flung itself off of Charles' supine form and he cried out in pain as Hank scrambled over to him. He grabbed the injured man by the left arm and lifted him up out of the hole, grunting with exertion.

His friend, Professor Charles Xavier, who had ignored Hank's wise counsel and finally relinquished control to the blue madwoman with a gun.

And saved the entire world.

Hopefully.

With his rapidly dwindling strength, Hank pulled him upright, taking most of the weight and braced his friend against him. Charles reached out and grasped a fallen beam in front of him with a trembling hand.

And they stood. Stood amid the ruins of the old world. Stood on the unformed beginning of the new one. As scary as Logan's future had sounded, Hank didn't know what to expect or feel now.

And it had only just begun.

Erik turned, glancing at them, and then looked to his helmet. Hank could tell he wanted it. And could not have it.

_Charles?_

"If you let them have me, I'm as good as dead," Erik said to Charles. "You know that."

_And I care because why?_

"I know," Charles replied sadly.

There was a long moment that passed between them.

Erik, the iron unbending one, was not going to beg. And Charles, the wounded peacemaker, was not going to make him.

Hank waited. It was all he could do.

Then it happened.

"Goodbye, old friend."

Those were the last words he spoke to him.

"Goodbye, Erik."

Then without speaking, the man who had once taken her with him, now looked at her silently. She looked back at him and Hank, not being a telepath at all, could not read their silent exchange.

He supposed he wasn't meant to.

And then Erik Lehnsherr, the powerful mutant Magneto, levitated himself up with Charles' silent leave and disappeared over the stadium walls.

Then there was only her.

Looking deflated, purposeless, lost. The powerful, scaly, blue woman slowly turned her head and looked at them with her startling yellow eyes.

At Charles.

And Hank.

_She's looking at me. All this time. All that has happened. She's finally seeing me._

Love, anger, sorrow, regret, yearning, hopelessness, relief.

The rush of mixed emotions flooded him so suddenly, he had to draw a deep breath and let it out to keep from drowning in them.

And then Raven smiled.

In that moment, all he wanted to do was hold out his hand to her. Beg her to go with them. Accept her as she was. Offer her refuge. Provide her with whatever she needed to be whole.

Because the tentative smile was in her yellow eyes too.

Hank caught a glimpse, just a glimpse of the girl he had once fallen for. The girl who had smiled and told him he was amazing. The girl who had offered him her blood. The girl who had unexpectedly sat in his lap to look in a microscope. The girl who had cared for him, cried because of him, endlessly encouraged him to accept himself for who he was meant to become.

He saw that girl, ever so briefly.

_I see you_, he thought to her.

_I know_, she replied.

He sighed, drinking her in while he could, knowing the timeless moment would end and be no more.

And then it did.

She turned. Raven Darkholme, Mystique, turned slowly away from them.

And walked away, favoring her right leg. The one in which she had been shot. The one he could have helped heal.

If she had only stayed.

And he watched her go.

Though it wrenched him apart all over again to see her leave.

"You sure you should let them go?"

Hank voiced the question, keeping his eyes on her departing form as long as possible. Knowing that when she disappeared from his sight, he would never see her again.

Not unless she chose for him to.

"Yes, I have hope for them," Charles replied quietly. "There's going to be a time, Hank, when we are all together."

_I wish I could believe that. But I don't see how._

"What about Logan?"

For that Charles had no reply. It was as if the man had completely and utterly vanished from their sight.

They had not seen him go. He had only disappeared. Evaporated while their backs were turned.

But with any luck, the rough, tough Logan, the Wolverine and his mutant healing factor, would survive.

For now, all that remained was Charles. And Hank.

And the frightened, confused humans.

_Well, whatever else happens next, I'm going to need to find my glasses first. The world's too blurry like this._

He supposed that could be taken as a metaphor.

* * *

**And that's the end of the movie for 1973 Hank. But I've developed one last chapter. Because I can't just leave them there in the rubble.**

**By the way, Raven had a twisted ankle or something at the end of FC. And then a bullet wound to the calf in DoFP. Bryan Singer really likes to keep her wounded, doesn't he? What's up with that? ha.**

**Thanks to my mystery guests (Bah, indeed!), MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, elea121, I've Been a Labrat, ChiefPam, lupoea2, Marinelife37, Paradox Predator, Mog161, brigid1318, Ssg1, Shanynde, collegegirl23, and angeleye02 for reviewing and weighing in on the immutable time thing. I, for one, really hope the war has been averted, by the way.**

**Thanks to collegegirl23 for adding your support to this story. **


	15. How to Proceed

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 15: How to Proceed

* * *

He had found his glasses. They were only slightly scratched and smudged. A reflection of his soul perhaps. Re-adjusting them on his dirt-smeared face, he took a deep breath and went to speak to the terrified and bewildered humans.

After confirming that they were all safe and unharmed, he turned to go.

"Wait! You can't just leave!"

Hank turned back with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Can't we? Are you really going to try to stop us?"

The president wilted noticeably and backed down. But he wasn't done speaking yet.

"No, of course not. But we need you to help us understand all this. Please."

Hank looked at him for a long moment, then nodded compassionately.

"Yes, I know. But right now, the other man with me needs medical assistance."

"We have medical staff inside the White House. We can care for him."

Hank considered, then shook his head.

"You could. But that leaves records. And we don't want records."

The man appeared flustered.

"But what do we do? How are we to act? What are we to say?"

Hank shrugged, already feeling the exhaustion and soreness that was slowly seeping into his weary bones.

"Specially outfitted top secret forces using advanced secret technology. Surely you can think of something. What's important right now is that mutants are left alone in peace."

"But how can we go on from here? After what we've seen?"

Hank considered this, then pointed a finger at the small scientist who even now was probably dying to detain them, examine them, experiment on them.

He didn't really blame him. Mutations were scientifically fascinating to study. Hank himself could attest to that.

But Trask could not be allowed to continue his abominations.

"First, stop _him_. He has the capability and drive to destroy us all."

The astounded, enraged little man opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

"He is a spy and has been selling government secrets, planning to overthrow you," Hank creatively fabricated. "You saw the machines he created attack innocent civilians."

The collective of men turned as one to gaze upon the new enemy among them who stammered and sputtered nonsensically.

"No! . . . I . . . they . . . you saw . . ."

The president turned back to Hank. Hank continued.

"And you have to stop the Sentinel program. It's proven to be unstable and too dangerous to develop."

The president nodded slowly, as if taking directions from an elder instructor instead of a younger man.

"Are there . . . more of you?" he questioned, almost fearfully.

Hank considered the question.

"Yes," he said finally. "But most of us just want to live in the peace."

The president eyed him carefully.

"What about the others? The ones who don't want peace? Like the one in the . . . cape?"

Hank didn't really have a good answer for him. Not yet. He said what he could.

"Let us deal with them when the time comes."

That did not seem to really satisfy the bewildered human. But it was all he could give him. The man's eyes held a thousand questions but he gave Hank the slightest of nods, his face drawn and strained.

Hank nodded back and turned away. When he made his way over to Charles and when he reached him, he spoke.

"That was a little too easy," he stated knowingly.

Charles's gaze was innocent.

"Perhaps they saw the light of reason."

Hank raised an eyebrow.

"With a little help, maybe?" he questioned.

Charles shrugged.

"Everyone needs a little . . . guidance now and again, don't you think?"

Hank thought for a moment, then nodded.

"I suppose."

They took Erik's helmet with them. The anti-telepathic helmet. The one he'd taken from the dead mutant Shaw. The helmet Charles had _forced_ him to leave behind. They took it with them now. For safekeeping.

* * *

After an examination of his friend, Hank was relieved to find that Charles had sustained only superficial injuries during the White House confrontation.

Charles, to his credit, did not revert back to his serum upon returning to the Manor. On the other hand, he also did not visit Cerebro.

Hank didn't push him. He was feeling a bit flayed and raw himself lately.

He did not even step foot in his laboratory. And Charles, gracious in turn, did not press him to.

Right before Logan (the mystery of his disappearance remained unsolved) had knocked on the main door of the manor, Hank had been certain and clear in his decisions. He had known exactly what he was going to do. At least up to a certain point.

And then everything, absolutely everything, had changed in the blink of an eye. Or the punch of a fist, really.

He had tried to absorb everything that had happened. Tried to assist, tried to analyze. Tried to maintain.

Now, after seeing Raven again, he vacillated between periods of washed out numbness and overwhelmingly crushing feelings of guilt and uncertainty.

For years after she had left, even in the face of her betrayal and abandonment, he had painfully carried a torch for her, so to speak.

Then, with the help of a beautiful, kind girl with an emotion for a name, he had finally attempted to move on.

And then all this had happened.

Suddenly seeing her and her seeing him. He had hated her, loved her, despised her, wanted her, resented her.

And then she was gone all over again.

And he was left sinking in the inescapable mire of all his feelings that he struggled to compartmentalize.

What was he to do now? How was he to proceed?

Much the same as the head of state, Hank did not know how to move forward after all that had occurred.

He and Charles talked about everything. The past, the present, the possible future implications. They rehashed it over and over again. Meticulously scrutinizing every detail. Pondering the ripples, pondering the river, pondering the pebbles.

They both scoured news media, print, radiowaves, and television broadcasts. The government seemed to be smoothing things over as best as they could. The same as they had done with Area 51, Bigfoot (_was that me?)_, UFOs, and all the other 'conspiracy theories' they had sought to bury over the years.

They even incarcerated Bolivar Trask for the very crimes that Hank (and Charles, he was certain) had suggested to the president.

Though Hank suspected he or someone similar would return in time.

Men like him always did.

He and Charles discussed it so much and at such great length and detail that he grew weary of it. He didn't want to talk about it, look at it, or consider any more.

And so life seem to slow again to a stop.

It didn't seem as hopeless as it once had. Hank suspected they were simply taking somewhat of a sabbatical after the whirlwind of attempting to save the future _(helped save the world; think I'll take a nap now)_.

And that after some introspection and reprieve, they would begin their work again, whatever that might be.

Use Cerebro to track those with mutant signatures and reach out to them?

Reopen the school to those mutants who needed shelter and guidance?

More scientific research and discovery toward some greater good?

And then there was her.

Her whom he had cared for, believed in, and clung to thoughts of even throughout life-threatening circumstances. Especially during them.

Her with her sticky fingers and orange toenails.

Her with her bright smile and positive waves.

But should he even be allowed to _think_ of her?

He had, after all, experienced absolutely overwhelming feelings at the sight of Raven. Her natural blue form writhing on the conference table. Attacking Erik to save her from death. Gazing upon her in the end before she had resolutely turned away.

Even when he had no visual contact. Discussing her role in the possible destruction of the world. Seeing reminders of her in the dark blue of the plane cabin. Searching for her in Cerebro.

The entire mission had been about her. And what effect her decisions and actions would have on the fate of the world.

And now it was over.

And she was gone again.

And he was left to stew in the self-doubt and self-recrimination of his thoughts and feelings.

Though it wasn't for his own personal gain, this fateful mission of theirs, he had still _wanted_ to see her. Even when he thought that he didn't. Not only to stop the destruction of the future world, but to reassure himself that she was alive and well.

Did he now even deserve to consider continuing a friendship, much less anything else, with that orange toenailed young woman who had shown him nothing but kindness and devotion since he had first struggled to look up?

Was it even plausible for them to have any kind of association with all that had come to pass?

Was there even any point in trying if the future could still hold such dark terrors?

He didn't know.

And so he stewed and mused and yearned and dreamed and denied himself the comfort of her presence.

He slept. He ate. He cleaned. He rambled around the manor.

He withdrew from the few mutant visitors who had come to seek asylum in Xavier Manor.

A tattooed boy. Some warty guy with goggles. A guy with spiky hair. Or spikes for hair. He got the sense they had initially been seeking Erik but were content for the moment to be anywhere that they would not be judged.

He let Charles deal with them. He had carried so much for so long. Hank decided to let someone else to do it for a change.

He developed scientific formulas and equations and theories deep within the recesses of his brilliant mind.

And left them there to thirst for discovery because they did not seem important enough to explore.

He was occasionally coerced into playing chess with Charles. He sulked when he lost. He could find little reason to celebrate when he won.

Charles, his friend, saw his struggle and tried to draw him out of his self-imposed isolation and taciturn state.

But Hank would not voice his innermost thoughts and musings and machinations of her. And _her_.

And to Charles' credit, he did not resort to using his powers to reveal them.

For which Hank felt deeply grateful.

Or would have been had he been able to draw himself away from his own depression and confusion enough to feel anything.

Three slow, agonizing weeks passed.

Hank suffered within himself. Battled between his desires and his sense of fairness.

And his friend Charles watched him, concerned.

* * *

And finally . . .

Hank McCoy was a scientist, an inventor. A rational man. He liked to have a plan. Order. Control. Agenda.

And now with all that had come to pass and all he had learned, he didn't know what to expect.

He didn't have a plan or an agenda.

He barely had an idea.

But it did seem like a good one.

Because it was the only one that gave him a sense of peace. Of Hope.

_Hope . . ._

* * *

**"Many a monster wears the form of a man; it's better of the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster." – Jeanne Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, 1756, 'Beauty and the Beast'; revived by Xmen director Bryan Singer concerning the character of Hank/Beast.**

**Yep, that's Hank. All over. And I think NH plays that exceptionally well. **

**Straight up original chapter here. But I just couldn't leave them in rubble.**

**Plus, it sets up for _next_ story. A lighter, more fun, much less negatively emo story. If you're interested that is. Well, are you? Be honest. I can take it. I know I talk a lot. But it's _Hank, _you guys. He's certainly not going to say it himself. So somebody has to. (Yep, completely delusional, that's me. *grins)**

**A sincere, heartfelt, final thanks to ChiefPam (that's right! you reject my negative waves, baby! *grins), lol, Mog161, HotMuffinCrumbs (very honest, love) ABewilderedBear, Aletta-Feather, angeleye02, Pandiichan, lupoea2, theFGnat, I've Been a Labrat, Shanynde, , brigid1318, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, FanWriter83, and my mystery guest for so kindly taking the time to speak up. You have been most gracious in so consistantly voicing your questions, opinions, and encouragement.**

**Thanks to HelloILikeIt for another glowing review and yes I totally understand what you mean about Hank. I mean I should. I am the one who has been writing for him for nine freaking weeks. *mind boggles* **

**Thanks also to S.H.E.I.K for your review on either this story or CinemaSins, I'm not sure which. *grins**

**Thanks as well to Tranquil Winds, princessyuki08, Pumpkin-love33, Squintz18, Utopiste, chibitamaora, lula . m . cast, and atrum nemus for adding your support to the story. **

**Also, a sincere thank you to all those silent readers out there. I hope you have enjoyed this story and I appreciate you very much.**

**Now everybody go out there and spread those positive waves, yeah? Go on, now. :D**


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